Chapter Five
Miss Bringhurst has already breakfasted,” the butler informed Marcus when he asked after her the next morning.
“I see.” Marcus looked at the empty table.
“She went directly to the gardens,” the butler added, nodding to the door which led outside.
Marcus looked at the spread on the side table with momentary longing, but he thought it best to begin his course with Ellen sooner rather than later. He took a slice of toast and made his way to the hall to obtain his great coat. He could not imagine what would take a lady out into a garden when it could not possibly have anything in bloom.
He found her easily, walking through the hedgerows, her eyes unfocused as though she looked inwards more than outwards.
“Good morning, Ellen,” he greeted as he drew closer. As he suspected, she looked startled and completely unaware of her surroundings until her eyes met his. At least her pleasant expression came readily, her eyes brightening.
“Good morning, Marcus.” She looked up at the clouded sky and then back at him. “I thought I was the only one foolish enough to enjoy a walk in this weather.”
“You are,” he said without hesitation. “But I’m foolish enough to think you ought to have company.” He shivered theatrically. “I’d much prefer to be on horseback on a day like today. Staying warm with some exercise.” He stood before her and offered his arm.
Marcus continued down the path she had been walking, matching his stride to hers. Though shorter than normal for a woman, she did not take mincing steps. He admired her confident stride.
“Why do you enjoy walking in weather like this?” he asked.
“The cool air helps me clear my mind of cobwebs.”
“Have you many such sticky things in your brain box?” He paused and made a show of peering at her forehead. “I cannot imagine that to be pleasant.”
She shook her head and spoke with a trace of humor. “I think anyone with a thought worth having also has several that are not worth having. Clearing away the dust and cobwebs leaves room for better thoughts. Greater focus.”
“And you have much to think on this morning?” He kept the inquiry polite but could not keep his grin from growing larger. “What weighty matters has such an enchanting lady to consider?”
“The matters common to a spinster and therefore of no interest to you, Marcus Calvert.” She smirked at him and took another step, which made him continue in order to keep her arm.
No matter how he tried to flirt, she turned his words and compliments back on him, seemingly unaffected. He decided to try a different tact. Perhaps seriousness would beget seriousness.
“I find it difficult to consider you a spinster. Every time I look at you, I can still see the girl from the schoolroom glaring at me across the library. Do you remember the time I caught you reading that book by the revolutionary, Benjamin Franklin? I told you it couldn’t be suited to a young lady’s taste.”
“And I told you that you were correct, but it was suited to mine.” He felt her relax and saw the look in her eye change, softening the amusement. “It was a good book. I convinced Father to order a copy for our library.”
The girl had always kept a book about her person. He imagined the woman before him did the same. “You still read a great deal?”
“I try to, yes. Father contributes to our village lending library, so we often receive the books and periodicals first.” Ellen bit her bottom lip before continuing, hesitation in her voice. “I know I should not admit to it, but I enjoy reading about all sorts of things. If a book in our circulation is especially good, Father trusts my judgment and buys a copy to add to our personal library. I think having wise words and knowledge close at hand is important to a family.”
He nodded and regarded her from the corner of his eye as they walked, turning a corner around another hedge. “What are you reading presently?”
At last he had the pleasure of seeing her blush, but not from his pointed attempts to cause such a reaction. When her cheeks turned pink, her freckles stood out more. She could not have above thirty of them, but they were scattered from one cheek to the other, bridging her pert nose.
“I am reading nothing of consequence.”
“Is it scandalous?” he asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
She didn’t look shocked by his question. “Only a little silly to admit. I am reading a children’s book. I find it interesting to see what sorts of things are written for children. It is a collection of Shakespeare’s plays. They are told in a narrative style instead of a script for the stage. There are beautiful illustrations.”
He could not resist a teasing grin. “The child who read Franklin’s autobiography reads children’s books as a woman grown. Your tastes are varied and not limited by your age or sex, I see.”
“They are not.” She smiled, her blush gone. “Although you’ve hit upon the reason that my mother despairs of me most. I am something of a bluestocking.” A note of apology hung on that word. Bluestockings, in his mind, were not pretty ladies who read interesting books, or conversed with such ease.
“I think that term need not be negative when applied correctly.” He gave her gloved hand a pat with his own, his tone only half-serious. “You are not planning on writing a stack of religious tracts and socially demanding poetry, are you?”
Ellen smirked. “Not at the moment, no. I have no desire to lead the life of Hannah More, nor the social standing to do so. I am content to read and learn, and share what I learn with those willing to hear it. I do not presume to know how to tell others to go about their lives.”
“Nor do you go about in a mob cap or black skirts, with spectacles perched on your nose, telling us all how superior your knowledge is. That is my idea of a bluestocking of the severest form.”
“Marcus,” she said slowly, “you have given me a wonderful idea. I think I shall share your picture of an enlightened woman with my mother. If she knew I had not sunk to that level she might be more at ease with me as I am now.”
“If you like, I could send her the description myself, and illustrate it as well,” he offered, grinning.
“Do you still draw?”
He faltered in his step and they both halted because of it. “Draw?”
“Yes. I remember you used to have a sketchbook you brought places with you. There was that picnic for all the children.” Her eyebrows drew together in thought. “You were with the older set, but you sat in a tree with a sketchbook instead of pretending to flirt with the girls your age.”
“They didn’t want to flirt with me,” he murmured, looking at her with interest. Ellen’s attention to detail impressed him. He could have sworn no one ever saw him with that book in hand. “They wanted to flirt with Lucas, the future earl. Whenever he was in company, I could never hold any attention.”
“I doubt that. I recall you being sought after frequently. But you didn’t answer my question.” She fixed her dark eyes on him, determined. “Do you still draw?”
He cleared his throat. “On rare occasions, when there is nothing better to do.”
“Oh.” She looked away, with an air of disappointment.
“It’s hardly a masculine pursuit,” he said, needing to explain himself. “When ladies speak of accomplishments, they always mention drawing. Men talk of sport.”
He looked up at the sky and at their surroundings. “Have we cleared enough cobwebs? Shall we turn back?”
“Yes, I think so.” She turned and he took her arm again as they retraced their steps to the open air of the gardens nearer the house. They moved through the hedgerows in silence and he tried to remember the qualities he thought important in a wife.
Practical. Sensible. Not given to romantic notions. Intelligent. Respectable. Willing to marry him and be a credit to his family.
He realized the list, which he thought impossible to fulfill, now felt entirely too short in requirements. The woman on his arm, from what little he knew, fulfilled each of them perfectly. Except the last. He did not know if she would be willing to marry. Ellen’s thoughts on herself put her squarely on the shelf. Perhaps she liked it there.
As the house came into view again, Ellen stopped walking. “There is something I feel I must tell you, Marcus. Though it causes me some embarrassment to discuss it.” Her eyes lowered to the ground as she spoke and the blush returned. Her freckles made her seem much younger than she was.
“If you feel you must then you must. I can promise you I’ll be a complete gentleman and listen attentively.” His attempt at levity was met with a quick glance from her.
“Thank you. I appreciate your word on that.” Her eyes darted away again before she took a deep breath, fortifying herself. “Yesterday evening, Marianne came to speak with me. She revealed her purpose in inviting the two of us to visit.”
Her blush darkened but she pressed on. “I’m incredibly sorry that my cousin and his wife put you up to—to paying your addresses to me, or even entertaining such a thought. I know this is an difficult situation and I wanted to release you from whatever promises you made to them.”
Marcus stared at her through her speech, his amusement doused as though he’d fallen through a frozen pond. He felt the heat creeping up his neck and knew his ears must be blazing red. She knew. She knew what he had been about. When she halted in her speech, she met his gaze, and he saw something he did not expect.
Though Ellen Bringhurst put on a brave face, her eyes were sad.
Marcus reached out and took both her hands in his. “Ellen. There is nothing awkward about this. Please put your mind at ease, or your face will burn up completely.”
She pulled her hands away. “I’m sorry. But it’s humiliating to know that my dearest friend and my cousin would try such an underhanded scheme. Thinking if they threw us together something would come of it.” She looked toward the house. “They acted out of concern for my well-being and for your inheritance. They worry for us both.”
“You know about my mother’s stipulations?” he asked, studying her profile. The red was receding and Ellen began to look more stoic. She nodded to answer his question. “Yet you think that I am out here, walking about in this abysmal cold, because my friend and his wife put me up to it?”
Ellen shrugged and adjusted her cloak, pulling it more tightly around her. “Yes. I think you made them a promise and you are now fulfilling it.”
Marcus reached for her hand, which she relinquished to him with a curious expression. He pulled her to a low retaining wall with naught but fallow earth inside it and gestured for her to sit. Once she did so, her eyes still on him, he ran a hand through his hair and looked up to the sky, hoping for some guidance.
“I promised Collin and Marianne nothing. They asked nothing. They presented the idea to me, informed me of their thoughts on the matter, and left it at that. I had no reservations about considering you as a bride, except that you might want better than such as I am.” He tried to make light of those words and even managed a grin after he said them. “I have been told in clear terms that the second son of an earl, with one small country estate, is not the best catch.”
A snort surprised him, coming from her slight frame. “If the requirements for a good marriage were that a man must have a title and vast tracts of land, where would any of us be? I fail to see how your wealth or title matter so much as whether or not you can support a family and will treat those under your care with fairness.”
She spoke with sincerity, her tone almost wistful.
“Those are the things that matter to you in a husband? Fairness? Basic provision?”
“Oh.” She smiled in a self-depreciating way. “I suppose I made my list as any schoolgirl does. But I know what matters most. Safety and relative comfort. Kindness. Intelligence is something I must add, as it would be dreadful to be stuck with a lack wit.”
His heart thrummed hopefully in his chest. He could give a wife those things. After all, she hadn’t mentioned love.
Marcus stepped forward, hopeful for the first time in weeks. “Then you would consider it?”
She blinked up at him, confusion written across her features. “Consider what?”
He wanted to kick himself. He had not actually asked her, and Ellen was under the impression he would never would. “Consider marrying me. I find that you are precisely the sort of wife I would seek.”
Ellen gaped at him, all the color leaving her cheeks. He rushed to say more before she could say no. “Unless you have your hopes set on being a spinster, as you said before. I can give you those things. Safety and security. I will be a kind and honorable husband. I will make certain you have all that you need. And I am somewhat intelligent, even if I have done a terrible job of proposing to you. You cannot really blame me for that.” He attempted to use his charm again, to tease a smile from her. “You brought up the topic, so my speech is not prepared at present. But I could say a few pretty things later if you like.”
She stared at him with such shock he couldn’t guess what else was in her thoughts. Before he attempted another word, she lowered her hands to grip the side of the wall and looked down at the stone walkway.
“The pretty things are not necessary. In fact, I would prefer if we left pretty out of this discussion entirely and focus on the plain words. You would marry me to get your inheritance?”
“I must marry,” he stated firmly. “And I would prefer my wife to be a woman of my choosing. A woman who will be a good partner in marriage and the running of an estate. Orchard Hill is not much at present, but it has a great deal of potential. If I have someone sensible running my home, I can focus on the land and income. I can make something greater of our holdings, to benefit future generations.”
Her chest rose and fell as she gulped in air, looking stricken. Pained, almost.
“Have I said something to upset you?” he asked, dropping to one knee before her in an attempt to better see her face. “Ellen? Are you unwell? I must’ve shocked you.”
“Something like that, yes,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze. “This is very sudden. I thought you would laugh about Collin and Marianne’s idea and we would part as friends. Your proposal—it is a great deal to take in. May I have time to think on it?”
He had startled her. He approached the whole matter like a complete fool. But she did not turn him down immediately. If she was as sensible as he believed, she would seriously consider the offer and accept him. Why not? He fulfilled all her stated requirements.
Hope rose within him and he had to repress a smile. “Yes. Take all the time you need, Ellen. I will not press you for an answer now. I am grateful Marianne and Collin brought us together. Meddlesome as they are.”
The corners of her lips turned up briefly. “They will never let us hear the end of this.” Though it sounded suspiciously like an agreement to his proposal, he did not press her. “Would you please go in and act as though nothing has happened? I don’t wish to discuss this with our hosts at present. I need to compose my thoughts.”
“Clearing cobwebs of my making this time.” He lifted her hand from the wall, surprised by the grip she had on the stone. He bowed over it. “Good morning, Ellen.”
“Good morning, Marcus.” She nodded but otherwise did not move. He released her and went into the house, his step light. Even if she did not accept his suit, at least the moment of uncertainty was over. He had not known how to approach the subject with her, but Ellen took the matter in hand. He blessed Marianne’s inability to keep a secret.
If Ellen said no, he would have reason to fret again. But for now, he would find some calmness of spirit in hope.
His last marriage proposal hadn’t gone well. It had nearly destroyed who he was, and certainly unmade the world and his place in it. But this was different. There was no risk here. He hadn’t given his heart away. He had been wise, practical, and as near to indifferent as one could be when proposing.
Though it had not been his intention to lay the matter before Ellen so soon, it relieved him to have it over with. He had to wait for her answer.