Chapter Fifteen
Ellen leaned forward in the carriage, peering out the window in search of the Harrisons’ home. This would be her first event in the neighborhood and the first time she entered society as a wife. No longer would she sit to one side, allowing the evening to flow around her, wishing she were part of it. As a married woman, her place would be different, her role more important, the restraints less cumbersome.
Why then did her stomach roll and twist when she wanted to feel nothing more than happy anticipation?
Her husband chuckled and she turned to see him watching her, leaned up against the other side of the coach. Though it was dark, the lanterns on the outside of their equipage gave barely enough light for them to see each other.
He looked handsome in his dark blue coat and buff breeches. His cravat was elegantly tied, his silver stickpin in place, and a vest of deep blue peeked out above his coat buttons.
“Excited?” he asked her, a teasing smile on his face.
“Very.” That was the correct answer, anyway. “I have had no visitors and I cannot contain my impatience in meeting the rest of the neighborhood. It will be good to have friends nearby.”
A grin appeared on his face. “I am not enough company for you, am I?”
She tipped her chin up smugly and shook her head. “Of course not. Women require women. It is a fact. And as you have taken me far from my sisters, I am forced to find others to come drink our tea, eat our cakes, embroider cushions, and do all manner of feminine things with me.”
He sat up straighter and fixed her with a mock-serious expression. “What about discussing books? You cannot take that from me. I enjoy our discussions.”
Her heart skipped a beat at this admission. She enjoyed those moments, too, sitting before a fire in their library, book in hand. He always asked her opinion on what she read and of late they had taken turns reading aloud from a novel by Charles Maturin, an Irishman. They laughed and discussed some of the passages with real interest, as Mr. Maturin made a study of society through his fiction.
“If books are ever brought up in my company, I will pretend illiteracy,” she promised him as seriously as she could. She earned a laugh for her teasing. The carriage slowed and stopped, causing her to turn back to the window. “Oh, you distracted me so I didn’t get to see the prospect of the house.”
He moved to whisper into her ear, causing a shiver of delight to run down her spine. “It was my wicked plan all along. I have deprived you of your window-peering.”
A footman opened the door and Marcus stepped out before offering his hand to assist her. Once her slippered foot touched the gravel, he tucked her hand through his arm. “Step carefully. There is ice enough in hidden places.”
Once inside, he removed her wrap and handed it to a waiting servant. They were shown to a conservatory, where other guests mingled. It was not an overly large party, but they did not immediately see the hosts. Marcus took it upon himself to begin making introductions.
“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Yardly, allow me to present my wife to you. Mrs. Calvert, Mr. and Mrs. Yardly reside on the west side of our village, with their children.”
The older couple bowed and nodded. Ellen offered them a friendly smile. She noticed that while Mr. Yardly seemed all politeness, his wife’s expression was less than welcoming.
“Is your charming daughter present tonight?” Marcus asked, his tone cheerful. “I should like to introduce Miss Yardly to my wife. They are near in age.”
“Are they?” Mrs. Yardly asked, raising two gray eyebrows. “Dear me. I had not realized. I thought you were closer in age to your husband, Mrs. Calvert.” Now her smile appeared, all coldness.
Ellen, surprised by the slight, recovered quickly. “Not quite, though I was in danger of spinsterhood when Mr. Calvert showed such generosity in saving me from that fate. Is your daughter very young?”
Marcus did not seem engaged in the conversation, peering around the room. Perhaps he had missed the veiled insult all together.
Mr. Yardly, after looking askance at his wife, answered her question. “She is about twenty-four.”
“Then younger, but not by a great deal. I look forward to meeting her, since my husband finds her to be charming.” She dipped a slight curtsy and gently pulled Marcus to the side. “We must first meet the hosts, I think.”
“Quite right,” Mr. Yardly answered.
“Ah, I see them.” Marcus led her across the room. “Or Mrs. Harrison, anyway.” He brought her straight to a woman dressed in green, with golden hair piled atop her head and a peacock fan in her hand. She looked a few years older than Ellen, which gave her reason to hope this woman would be friendlier than the last.
Marcus made the introductions to the hostess, who smiled politely. “We were all aflutter when we learned of your marriage, Mr. Calvert.” She closed her fan and gave him a playful tap on the arm, her bright blue eyes alight with humor. “We have been waiting so long for you to take possession of Orchard Hill, but we hardly expected a wife to come with you. I think you have disappointed a great many of our young ladies.”
Ellen’s surprise at being so cut from the comments must have shown, for the lady of the house turned toward her. “I mean no offense, of course. I am sure you are lovely. But we have several young ladies who had anticipated Mr. Calvert’s company. He is quite the favorite among them, you know.”
“They will find new favorites soon enough,” Marcus said, his usual amiable smile in place.
“Of course,” Mrs. Harrison murmured, then glanced to one side. “Ah, here is Miss Emma Patterson. You must meet her, Mrs. Calvert.” She beckoned to a doe-eyed young woman with raven black hair. “Miss Emma is a delightful musician. Maybe she will favor us with a piece later this evening.”
“If the company wishes it,” the young woman answered, then turned her attention to Ellen. “Do you play, Mrs. Calvert?”
“A little,” she answered, her stomach tightening uneasily. She wouldn’t be expected to play before so many strangers, surely. The program for the evening was likely set. “Mostly for my own amusement. Who is your favorite composer?”
The young lady waved her hand. “Oh, I haven’t one really. So long as the music is lovely I am happy to play. But let us discuss something more interesting. How did you and our dear Mr. Calvert meet? I do not think I have seen you in London before, and my family attempts to go every year.”
Marcus had turned aside to speak to a gentleman, Mr. Harrison, who had come to stand near them. They never discussed how to answer questions of this nature, but Ellen assumed the truth would not harm anything.
“We have known each other since childhood,” she answered. “We met again but recently.”
“I see.” Miss Emma stepped nearer and lowered her voice. “Frankly, those of us who were in London two years ago were all surprised he married at all. It was no secret how much he cared for Lady Selene, or Lady Castleton is what we ought to call her now, I suppose. What a disappointed love affair that was.” She sighed, lowering her eyelashes a touch. “But it is good to see he is healed from that. Especially given the rumors about Lady Castleton.”
Ellen glanced aside to her husband, but he had stepped away several paces and appeared to be deep in conversation with several gentlemen. Putting her attention back on the young woman before her, Ellen forced a smile and shook her head. “I am afraid I am unfamiliar with any rumors you may speak of. Is the lady in good health?”
“Perfectly well in body.” The younger woman hid a smile behind her fan, though she raised her eyebrows. “But not so well in marriage. Rumor has it her husband remains in the country while she resides in London, doing whatever it is she pleases, escorted about by any number of gentlemen. My mama says I should not worry my head over it, but I am rather anxious to get to town and find out for myself what is going on.”
“Indeed.” Ellen felt the bottom drop from her stomach and her shoulders tensed. “I am afraid, having never met her, I will not be a source of any interesting information.”
A giggle made her turn to see a young woman standing near Marcus, gloved hand on his arm and a blush on her cheeks as she spoke to him. Ellen strained to hear, but Miss Emma was talking again.
“I am certain you will learn more as people discover your marriage. Any woman would want to be kept abreast of such things.”
Ellen nodded absently. “Excuse me, won’t you, Miss Emma?” She stepped away, toward her husband.
Marcus saw her coming and smiled warmly. “Ah, allow me to make the introductions. Miss Yardly, this is my wife, Mrs. Calvert.” They made their curtsies. “Miss Yardly has been kind to me in London and allowed me to dance with her in many a crowded ballroom.”
“Oh, it has always been a pleasure to stand up with you, Mr. Calvert.” The young miss shot him a coy look from beneath her lashes and turned fully to Ellen. “Your husband is a very fine dancer. But I am sure you know that.”
Ellen did not know that, and she realized how unlikely she would be to find out at any point soon. Married men rarely, if ever, danced with their wives.
As Miss Yardly looked like she expected a response, Ellen did her best. “Mr. Calvert is very adept at anything he puts his mind to.”
Marcus looked down at her with an expression she could not entirely read, though his smile softened.
“You see? It is as I have been telling you gentlemen. My wife is a great compliment to me in life. I go about as I always have, and now she is here to attest to my brilliance in doing so.”
A few gentlemen chuckled and Ellen tried to look pleased with the comment. Her handsome husband, who discussed books with great intelligence, who was insightful and compassionate with his tenants’ needs, seemed a different person when in company.
He introduced her to the gentlemen standing near him and she stood at his side, mutely nodding in agreement from time to time with all he said. Though he had not been in residence at Orchard Hill for years, he knew everyone in the neighborhood either from London or visiting as a younger man. Gentlemen laughed at his jokes and ladies came near to receive a compliment or two before tittering and wandering away again.
With no desire to engage in private conversation, Ellen wondered why she ever thought being married would make events easier. When she was no longer a stranger, she would be able to enjoy herself more. At least, that’s what she hoped.
It was nearly time to go in to dinner when a new face appeared near their circle and Marcus reached down to catch her hand, tugging her gently toward a tall gentleman. “Mr. Banner,” he said, gaining the man’s attention. “Please, allow me to introduce my wife to you.”
Mr. Banner smiled brightly, the expression making his humble features friendly. “If I might introduce mine as well. One moment, please.” He took a few steps to a gaggle of women, all conversing and flapping fans about with great animation, and gently took one by the arm. She returned with him, her lovely smile the friendliest Ellen had seen all night. “There now. I will go first. Darling Mrs. Banner, might I introduce my good friend, Mr. Calvert?”
Marcus bowed. “A pleasure, Mrs. Banner. I have heard a great deal about you, but I began to doubt you existed.”
She laughed. “That is the fate of one who does not go to London. No one believes we are real.” She turned to Ellen, her bright green eyes sparkling with good humor. “I understand you suffer the same fate, Mrs. Calvert. We are both in danger of vanishing all together if we do not spend more time in Society’s clutches.”
Ellen smiled hesitantly, not sure if she ought to trust this woman’s tongue to remain kind. “It is true. I have never been to London.”
“But we will remedy that soon,” Marcus said firmly. “Will you come up as well, Mrs. Banner?”
“Perhaps,” she answered. “For a few weeks. I must admit, it holds little interest for me, but my husband’s business calls him there from time to time.” Mrs. Banner gave her attention back to Ellen and reached out to touch her lightly on the arm. “Congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Calvert. I am certain you must be a very special person and I look forward to knowing you better. Would you both come to dinner tomorrow, at my home? If you are going away to London, I must become your friend right away, lest you forget me while you are gone.”
Ellen’s outlook brightened. “That would be most welcome, Mrs. Banner.”
“Excellent.” Mrs. Banner slipped her arm through her husband’s and nodded toward a set of doors. “I believe dinner is being served. I hope you will find me after. I want to tell you all about the neighborhood.” The couple joined the small crowd going into the dining room.
Ellen looked up at her husband, some hope returning. “They seem kind.”
“They are my favorite people in the county,” he confided softly, bent to speak directly in her ear. “But don’t tell anyone else. They would become jealous and I would lose my popularity. Then where would we be?”
“Home, reading a book,” she muttered darkly, her mind on the previous conversations of the evening. But Marcus laughed out loud and then smothered the sound with his hand, earning several strange looks as people passed them to go to the dining room. She resisted the urge to smile and looked sidelong at him.
“I take it you would not mind that fate?” he asked, his humor restrained behind his eyes.
“Not very much,” she admitted. “Let us go in and see how far apart they have put us.” That was another of society’s tricks. Marry a man and never dance with him in public or sit near him at dinner again. She sighed when she saw they were nearly at opposite ends of the table. She hoped her dinner partners would at least be reasonable people.
Her hopes on that account sunk rapidly. As a new bride, and with her husband’s importance in the neighborhood, she was fairly close to the host. Two ladies outranked her, the wife of a viscount and the wife of a knight. She sat next to the viscountess.
“Mrs. Calvert, it is such a pleasure to meet the woman that Mr. Calvert finally chose to settle down with,” the viscountess remarked in a tone which suggested it was anything but a pleasure. “I have been watching him with interest for years as he flitted about the finest balls and drawing rooms of London.”
The viscountess could not be much older than Marcus; Ellen wondered at her unusual attentions to him. But the gentleman to her other side heard the conversation and broke in before she could respond.
“Yes, Mr. Calvert has always been a favorite with the ladies. I daresay, his brother the Earl is more popular, for all he is reticent in his duties to society.”
“The Earl of Annesbury still mourns his late wife. I am afraid that makes him a more romantic figure than his brother,” the viscountess agreed loftily. “Not to mention the title. Of course, with Mr. Calvert as his heir at present, I would have thought more young ladies would set their cap for him.”
Ellen remained silent as they conversed freely about her husband’s family, then chose another target in the company to aim their impolite conversation toward. She could hardly believe that people of such quality could be so rude as to discuss such private matters with each other. Ellen did not have much of an appetite, but she took what bites of the food she could.
The evening fast gave her a headache.
¤
Marcus tried to focus on the conversation of his dinner companions but found he could not stop glancing down the table at Ellen. She barely looked at her dinner companions, let alone spoke to them. Strange. He’d found the viscountess to be entertaining company in the past.
“Mr. Calvert,” his hostess spoke, drawing his attention. “Would you tell us more of your bride? How did you meet Mrs. Calvert?”
He glanced to either side of him to find the other guests looked equally intrigued. “It is not a particularly intriguing tale. We have known each other since childhood. I have always enjoyed her company. I found it very natural to think of her when I turned my mind to finding a wife.”
One of the female guests on his side of the table leaned forward to speak. “Very natural? What a way to speak of marriage. But why have we not seen her in your company before, in London?”
“Her family does not go to London. They enjoy a short season in Bath.”
His hostess chuckled and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I cannot think of anyone I know who would prefer Bath to London. How extraordinary.”
Marcus knew asking Ellen to wed would raise eyebrows, but he did not understand how much the questions along that vein would irritate him. What did it matter to anyone else who he chose as his bride? Once married, society recognized she was part of him and his prestige. Her family did not matter so much as her current place in his.
Casting a quick look down the table to check on his bride, he wondered if that was why Ellen appeared solemn and silent at her end of the table. Were people asking her the same intrusive questions?
Changing the topic felt like the most tolerable option. “Mrs. Harrison, you have exquisite culinary taste. This dinner is absolutely perfect.”
She demurred gracefully.
In another moment, he praised a young woman down the table from him on her lovely voice, then spoke in general about the wintry weather and expectations for the season. Expertly, he turned the conversation from himself. Deftly, he laid out compliments and flattered one person after another. Before long, the dinner was complete, and the lady of the house stood to signal for the other ladies to accompany her from the room while the gentlemen enjoyed stronger libations than readily available in the card room.
Peter Banner came to his side of the table and sat, crossing his arms and leaning back. “For your first event as a married man, you are doing supremely well.”
“It’s hardly any different than it was when I was single,” Marcus said, his voice low enough that his comments remained between the two of them. “Except that I’m no longer fending off single women.”
Banner chuckled and then turned to converse with the man on his other side.
Marcus hadn’t told his friend the entire truth. While he might carry himself as he always had, speak as he always did, he was worrying for Ellen. She had been nervous to come and being apart from her when she might be uncomfortable made him anxious. If nothing else, the ton had taught him to mask his feelings, and he did that now for her sake.
Ellen might not appreciate a hovering husband, he told himself.
He carried on through the after-dinner port as though nothing weighed on his mind, speaking of their plans to go to London.
When the host finally stood, it was time to rejoin the ladies. Marcus sprung up faster than he intended to. He made up for it by allowing other gentlemen to precede him as they shuffled out.
He entered the parlor and surveyed the room, looking for Ellen in her beautiful mint green gown. He found her, sitting on a covered bench near the window, deep in conversation with Mrs. Banner.
“They will be thick as thieves in no time,” Banner said, appearing beside him.
Marcus barely held in a sigh. “I hope so. Ellen needs friends here.”
“She will have them. In time.” Banner clapped him on the shoulder and went forward, making straight for his wife, and Marcus followed a step behind.