Forever Elle (Regency Romance)

by Heather Chapman

  Clara smiled—I guess you could call it that. It lacked emotion and, even more than that, effort. It was a close-lipped smile. Her teeth were brilliant white and straight, but I never saw them anymore. I didn’t understand. Why didn’t she at least try to be happy? We only had until spring in the valley.

  “I think I’ll pass,” my sister said, standing to clear her plate.

  Paul rolled his eyes and flicked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go, Elle.”

  We hauled the toboggan to the hill beyond our property. My boots were already filling with snow, my gloves still wet from feeding the animals that morning, but still I went. I didn’t want to miss a moment with Paul, not when I’d be leaving him. I had been so worried he’d leave me; I hadn’t ever thought it’d be the other way around.

  Paul sat on the sled, motioning for me to join him.

  “Why do you think Clara is like that?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I don’t know. Some people just don’t make their minds up to be happy,” he said. “Don’t you worry about it. There’s nothing you can do but be happy yourself.”

  I hopped down in front of him, tucking my dress around my legs and boots. “I miss her.” Life had already taught me that things were never that simple. Struggles were like icebergs; people could only see the tip. I’d seen such a change in my sister, and it felt wrong to sweep it under the rug of sulking. It was something more.

  Paul nudged me. “Let’s not think of it now. Let’s just enjoy the morning.”

  I nodded. “All right.”

  He used his arms to push off the hill. We picked up speed, and I laughed like a child. It was effortless with Paul. We reached the bottom of the hill and rolled the sled. I lay there, my cheeks aching from laughing.

  “Race ya?” Paul asked.

  I scrambled to my feet, a cloud of snow blasting my cheeks. We trudged up the hill, and I would have beat him if it hadn’t been for his long legs. It took me three strides to equal his one.

  He tossed the sled down. “Your turn.”

  I grinned. I hadn’t ridden by myself for ages. I lay on my stomach, like a long plank, burying my face in my scarf. “Ready.”

  Paul took a few steps backward, then ran and pushed the toboggan down the hill.

  I closed my eyes and spread my arms, pretending I was a bird. The wind whizzed by my cheeks, splatters of snow hitting my chapped lips. It was the closest to freedom I’d ever felt. There was no one to stop me, except for me. I craved that power and independence, even as a fourteen-year-old girl.

  I skidded to a stop and opened my eyes. My fingers had already grown numb, and my smile froze.

  “Bet you won’t do that in Virginia,” my brother said when I reached the top.

  I shook my head. “Refined ladies do not sit on a toboggan.”

  He chuckled, but I saw a pang of sadness reach his eyes. “Refined ladies, my foot. Pops knew what kind of life it was in the valley when he married Mama. He’s too old-fashioned. None of it matters.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, wanting to believe him.

  “All that fuss about being brought up properly—it doesn’t make no sense. He’s raising you for what? So you can marry a fancy businessman in the city?” He shook his head. “He should be raising you to be a countryman’s wife. How would that be, if you and George married, if you refused to feed the cattle for fear of dirtying your shoes?”

  “I’d never marry George Hughes,” I said, my voice clipped with anger, and it surprised us both.

  Paul took an audible breath. “That’s beside the point. I just mean, how would that be good? Unless Pops means to send you away forever. A lady doesn’t belong in the country. You do, Elle.”

  The idea of leaving settled in my stomach like a bad piece of meat. It made me sick, and it was hard to think of much else. I didn’t know if I could digest it. I shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “I know,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  I STARED AT HIM FROM ACROSS THE school room. It was easy because I sat in the back and nobody could tell if I was looking at the blackboard or the back of Toby’s head. I scribbled on my slate to disguise my daydreaming, but only Toby flashed across my mind.

  Toby Lowry was the epitome of all that was handsome and dreamy. His dark hair and deep-set eyes, his dark brows and thick lashes—he was breathtakingly beautiful. He swiped his hand through his hair, and I sighed. Toby’s every move was dreamy.

  His daddy worked at the bank. They had more money than the rest of us kids, and anyone could tell by the way Toby dressed. Nice clothes do something to a person—at least that’s what I hoped, because I dreamed of buying my first womanly dress and transforming into a lady worthy of Toby. I leaned my head against my arm, daydreaming of the moment he would ask if he could court me. I’d pretend to be surprised—that’s what all ladies did, or so I thought.

  “Elizabeth Pratt,” Miss Ellison said.

  I started. “Hmm?”

  A few girls stifled giggles, and Toby Lowry even turned around to grin at me. Heat rose to my cheeks. The room seemed to spin around me.

  “I’d hate to bore you. Why don’t you come to the front of the class and solve this problem?” She held out a piece of chalk.

  I swallowed.

  Miss Ellison’s gaze remained fixed. Her jaw was set, and her eyes narrowed. How long had she been waiting on me?

  I lifted my chin and walked to the front. I had no clue what she’d been lecturing about, no idea what I was supposed to do, but I’d never admit that—not when half the girls had laughed at me. It was arithmetic; surely I could figure it out.

  The chalk in my hand screeched against the blackboard. I cringed, flushing once more. It was snowing outside, and Miss Ellison had just had the stove restocked with wood. I fanned myself at the collar.

  “Miss Pratt, are you all right?” Miss Ellison asked, her voice softening for once.

  I nodded, refusing to turn and show my reddened face again. Another screech. I was almost through the problem when I heard Beth Foster’s giggle. She was only a row away from the board.

  “Oh dear, Elizabeth forgot the decimal,” Beth said, feigning a whisper.

  I froze.

  “Where is your workbook?” Miss Ellison demanded. She tapped my desk, indicating where my book should have been. “Perhaps you can enlighten us as to what has so wholeheartedly distracted you from participating?”

  I placed the chalk on the tray and pursed my lips. I abhorred her shaming techniques. Her words left me blushing and speechless. I staggered toward my seat, but Miss Ellison held out her hand, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

  She took the slate from my desk and studied it. One side of her lips twitched in amusement. Her eyes darted toward mine. “Perhaps this has something to do with it?”

  She held up the slate just long enough for Toby to see. He gasped and turned to me.

  I squinted. Elizabeth Lowry it read inside an outlined heart. I choked back a sob and inhaled sharply. I didn’t recall writing it, but the truth shone back at me. Horror struck me with such force that my knees buckled. Was I about to faint?

  I lurched forward and stole the slate from Miss Ellison’s hands before anyone else could see. “Please,” I said in a desperate plea.

  My teacher’s gray eyes bulged in response, her cheeks reddening. “Elizabeth Pratt, you are dismissed this instant,” she said, pointing to the door. “Do not return to school until you are capable of refraining from such frivolity.”

  I flinched. Tears pooled. I tried to blink them away.

  “This instant,” Miss Ellison repeated.

  I wiped my eyes and glanced around the room. No one dared to look at me, not even Clara. Beth whispered to her seatmate but stopped when my gaze fell upon her. Toby had slunk to the bottom of his seat and shielded his face with his hand.

  I gathered my books and coat without a word.

  “Back to work,” Miss
Ellison said, slapping a measuring stick against her hand. “Who can solve the problem?” She carried on as if nothing had happened, as if all were forgotten.

  But something had happened. My pride was crushed, my heart strung out for all the class to see. I never wanted to set foot in that schoolroom again, for if Beth Foster had it her way, I would be hearing about it for ages.

  A new wave of emotion encompassed me, and fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. I’d secretly dreamt of confessing my feelings to Toby. But not like this—not at school in front of the class, with Beth and the other girls laughing at me and Toby sharing in my humiliation.

  I slipped out the door. I slapped at my tears. I hated crying, but the tears streaming down my cheeks persisted without permission. How could I ever go back? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  At my side, I balled my hands into fists. Daddy would make sure I returned.

  I clenched my teeth and cleared the school fence. It wouldn’t be for long. Virginia was only a month away, if winter cooperated.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  Since when had I found solace in the idea of being sent away? Perhaps I’d enjoy a change from the valley, a change from Miss Ellison and Beth Foster and the class that knew my deepest secret. I bit my lip, imagining a fresh beginning with new faces and free of past mistakes being held over my head.

  A clean slate.

  I sighed at the irony. Clara could spend her days crying, wishing to stay in Teton Valley. But I would not; I would count down the days until the valley was a distant memory.

  “Three weeks is a pretty long time to sulk,” Paul said, toppling George’s pawn. “You think you’ll go back to school on Monday?”

  I slapped my book shut, casting my darkest glare at my brother. How could he talk about it around George? George didn’t need any more ammunition against me.

  The boys sat across the room at the card table, hunched over the chess board. Spring fever had hit, and we were all restless. If it weren’t for the late March snowfall, we’d have already been climbing trees and walking the fences. I shook my head, correcting myself—They’d have been climbing trees and walking fences.

  Ladies never participated in such activities, and I wished more than ever to be a real lady.

  “Well?” Paul said, turning around.

  “Mama said I could finish my last month of schoolwork at home,” I said, glancing down at my book. I still couldn’t believe she’d persuaded Daddy to let me stay home after being dismissed. Mama was as angry as me about Miss Ellison’s treatment.

  “Last month? School lasts until June,” George said, leaning back in his chair. “You settling to quit school like me?”

  I sneered. “Hardly.”

  “Pops is sending her and Clara away to my aunt in Virginia—something about training them to be proper ladies.” He grimaced and tapped his fingers against the table. “I can hardly stomach it. You hadn’t heard?”

  I held my breath. It hadn’t come up in conversation, and I felt strange telling George. I didn’t know why.

  George caught my eye and rocked forward. “Virginia?”

  “I’m being sent away,” I said, opening my book once more. It took all my effort not to watch his reaction and study his expression.

  Silence settled, the ticking of the grandfather clock slicing through the emptiness.

  Paul tapped his finger once more. “Are you going to go? It’s your turn.”

  George cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just … Virginia?” He slid a piece across the board.

  “You can’t go there,” my brother said. “Or there,” he added when George made a new attempt. “Are you even paying attention?”

  I glanced above the book and was startled to see George staring at me. His eyes were pained, the crease by his brows marked.

  My breath caught. He wasn’t laughing or teasing. He seemed genuinely bothered I was leaving. I couldn’t decide what that meant, or why I cared.

  A knock sounded, and Paul stood to answer it.

  “Afternoon, young Mr. Pratt,” the elderly Edwin Palmer said, lifting the edge of his hat, when Paul answered the door. “Your father said I could leave my pig in your pasture for butchering later this week.”

  Paul nodded. “Of course. Let me get my boots, and I’ll meet you ’round back.” He shut the door and shot me a glance. “Elle, play for me while I’m gone. And don’t you lose; George doesn’t need another win for the books.”

  I hesitated.

  “You can’t mess it up,” Paul said, lacing his final boot. He left the room and headed through the back door.

  The grandfather clock’s ticking seemed to rise once more, and I scrambled to my feet to take Paul’s seat. I surveyed the game board. Paul had built a blockade of sorts around George’s king, leaving him only one avenue to safety.

  George moved his king to the right.

  I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. I moved my bishop four spaces. “Checkmate,” I said, straightening.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked, grinning back at me. He reached for his queen.

  I fumbled, knocking over a few pieces. “No, I didn’t mean to go there,” I said, catching the bishop before George could knock it down.

  He chuckled, intercepting my hand. “You can’t take it back.”

  The warmth of his hand over mine sent my heart racing, and I tried to pull away. “I only just sat down. You can’t really mean that.”

  He maintained his grip with surprising resolve. A smile stretched across his cheeks. “Rules,” he said, leaning closer.

  Heat flooded my cheeks. I had surrendered to his grip, if only out of shock. The desire to meet his gaze was more than I could counter. Self-preservation warned me otherwise, but weakness overtook me.

  Our eyes locked, and time itself seemed to stop. My breath caught in my chest, and my head spun in utter confusion.

  The back door sounded, and I clambered to a stand.

  George jerked backward and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck.

  “Well? Did you beat him?” Paul stood at the doorway.

  I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have had me play. I lost your bishop.” I gathered my book and took off up the stairs, ignoring my brother’s complaints.

  I escaped to my room and fell to the bed. I clutched the book to my chest. What had just happened?

  My heart still raced, and my fingers tingled from his touch. George Hughes. I blinked, shaking my head. It couldn’t be. I didn’t care for George. He infuriated me to no end with his endless ribbing and taunting ways.

  A smile disobediently stretched across my lips. I’d never felt that way around Toby Lowry. Laughter bubbled up my throat, and I buried my face in the pillow. It couldn’t be. Not George, not now.

  But he had held my gaze. I had seen some semblance of attraction staring back at me when he touched my hand. Or had I? I racked my brain. George was seventeen; I was fourteen. He teased me plenty, but perhaps his feelings went no further. I was young.

  I screamed in the pillow. Virginia could not come fast enough. I needed to escape the valley and these feelings I didn’t understand. I needed to escape George before he hurt me worse than Toby ever could have.

  The rising sun peeked through the gray clouds and sent rays over the dark and distant hills. The snowcapped peaks were a shade of light purple against the horizon. I sighed, pulling the collar of my coat closer around me. The pastures were still muddy and brown, but patches of green promised spring.

  And today I would leave.

  Conflicting emotions pulsed through my veins—anguish, fear, relief, and anticipation, leaving me with a splitting headache. I closed my eyes and inhaled. Change was inevitable; Daddy always reminded me.

  “So you’re leaving, then?” George asked, arousing me from my reverie. Paul must have told him it was today.

  I nodded, shivering against the morning chill. “I hadn’t heard you come.”

  Weeks had come and gone, and I hadn’t
quite reconciled myself with my feelings. I’d always detested George; at least I’d told myself so. I had hardly spoken to him since the chess game.

  He gestured to the peaks. “You seemed as if you were bidding them farewell.”

  “I had to see one more sunrise,” I said. Emotion seeped out with each word. I swallowed. I couldn’t allow myself to cry. I’d done enough of that already. “It’s strange to think that life will continue in the valley as it ever has and that I will no longer be a part of it.”

  “But it won’t continue just the same.” He grinned, but it was a thin-veiled attempt.

  I smiled back but kept my gaze to the horizon. “I should think your days will be infinitely more agreeable without the trouble I cause.”

  The silence was thick.

  “It won’t be the same without you.” His voice drifted. His eyes glistened, as if tears threatened.

  I took a step toward the house. I couldn’t trust my heart or head around George, and the realization frightened me.

  “I mean you and Clara. It won’t be the same,” he stammered, falling in stride with me.

  And Clara? My heart dropped. Surely it was the biting wind that caused his eyes to water. Or Clara. But not me. My heart led a hopeless pursuit. “You’ll have Paul. He’s always been better company than us girls,” I said, forcing a smile. My resolve cracked, and my shaky breath overtook the effort. “I’d have thought you relieved to hear me gone.”

  I silently cursed my impulsive tongue. My words overflowed with a longing I had restrained for far too long. I wished more than anything that George Hughes thought me more than just a kid sister. But to hear myself speak? Desperation coated my repulsive words.

  He shifted his weight. “Relieved? Elle, is that all you think you are to me—a nuisance?”

  My heart carried to my throat, where it threatened to escape. I swallowed it and offered a weak smile. “Well, Daddy will be relieved. I figure most will—Beth Foster, Toby Lowry—”

  “And me?”

  I shrugged. “I’m nothing like the other girls. I don’t know how to keep still and quiet. Why, you saw me pulled across the pasture in my underclothes,” I said, coloring at the mere recollection.