Chapter Four
Sitting at her dressing table while Sarah brushed out her hair, Ellen relaxed beneath the maid’s ministrations and allowed her mind to wander.
Seeing Marcus again, being alone with him before dinner, created all manner of conflict inside her heart and head. For years she held him up as an ideal companion, but never dared hope he would pay her attention. Yet he called her by her Christian name almost at once. Such familiarity made her feel heady. Excited. But she could not allow that.
Such an intimacy could be one of his methods of flirtation. Though they knew each other as children, most would put away that familiarity upon entering adulthood.
As far as society was concerned, she barely existed. She was not important. Apart from their meeting here in her cousin’s house, she would likely never see Marcus again.
That thought did nothing to lift her spirits.
A light rap on the door startled her. She exchanged a glance with Sarah, who hurried to answer it. The girl opened it a crack, then stepped back to allow the person outside entry.
Marianne entered wearing her wrap, her hair in a long blonde braid. “I am glad you are not abed yet. I wished to speak to you before you retire. We did not get the chance for a private word today.”
“Shall I go, miss?” Sarah asked, hovering near the door.
“Yes, of course. Good night, Sarah.” The girl bobbed a curtsy and disappeared, closing the door behind her. Ellen began to braid her hair, watching Marianne in the mirror.
“Is the room to your liking?” Marianne walked about, straightening a cushion on the chair near the fire.
“Yes, very much.” Tying off the braid with a ribbon, Ellen turned fully in her chair to face her friend. “I am glad to be here.”
Marianne glanced up with raised eyebrows. “But?”
Shaking her head, Ellen confessed her thoughts. “Why am I here at the same time as Mr. Calvert? Is he to be Collin’s guest and I yours?”
“No.” Marianne shook her head. “If anything, I have sincere hopes you will spend your time here keeping each other company.”
Ellen frowned, uncertain she heard correctly. “Keeping each other—? Marianne, what are you saying exactly?” She stood, gripping the back of her chair tightly. “You are not playing matchmaker.”
Marianne’s face remained serious. “I certainly am.”
Ellen took one breath and then another, her thoughts flying quickly through her mind. How could her friend and her cousin do this to her? Why would they set her up for such a dismal failure? Especially when Marianne knew, and had for a number of years, that Ellen admired Marcus? In a moment of youthful folly many years past, she told Marianne that marrying Marcus would be dreadfully romantic.
Marianne must know that Ellen left that dream behind her long ago. “Five seasons, Marianne,” she said at last, loosening her grip on the chair. Her knuckles had turned white. “I’ve had five seasons in Bath. I am firmly on the shelf. I accept that. Please. Do not make Mar—Mr. Calvert’s time here difficult by throwing me at him.” She met her friend’s gaze, pleadingly.
Marianne came across the room, reaching out to embrace Ellen. Ellen hoped this meant her friend accepted her request.
But Marianne’s next words dashed that idea. “You are perfect for him, Ellen. Marcus just doesn’t know it yet.”
Ellen stepped away, wrapping her arms about herself. “No. I’m not. He is the son of an earl, he goes to London every season, he can have his choice of women.”
“But what if his choice is you?” Marianne asked with a wide gesture of her arms. “You are both here. No distractions. No meddlesome family. Just the two of you. Why not give it a chance?”
“Because it would be terrible. Can you imagine me trying to flirt with him? Win him over?”
A snort escaped the proper Lady Falkham. “He sees enough of that behavior in London. I want you to be yourself.” Her look became earnest. “I want you to talk to him and be honest.”
“Honest?” Ellen moved to sit on the edge of her bed, shaking her head. “I dare not be honest. You know, Marianne. You know how I have always felt about him. I think that would terrify him to know a bookish little nobody fancied herself in love.”
Marianne winced. “Maybe not that honest. I meant that you should behave as you would with Collin and me. Not the way your mother wishes, or society expects. The way you wish to be. I think he will find it endearing.”
A suspicion formed in Ellen’s mind and she gasped. “He knows! He knows that’s why he’s here, doesn’t he?” She felt her cheeks burn. “Marianne, tell me he doesn’t know.”
Marianne began to blush as well. “That isn’t precisely—” She swallowed. “I suppose I’d better tell you the whole of it. Marcus does know what Collin and I hope. But he didn’t flee when we spoke to him of our thoughts on the matter. That must count in your favor.”
“Likely he is amused by the very notion of me as anyone’s bride,” Ellen said, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples. “Oh, how could you? Don’t you realize—”
Marianne spoke impatiently. “He needs a wife, Ellen.”
Ellen opened her eyes to see Marianne looking sheepish.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” the baroness muttered, looking away and reaching up to play with the ends of her braid. “Oh dear. Collin will be disappointed.”
“Why does Mar—Mr. Calvert need a wife? And why wouldn’t he choose one from the throngs of women in London?” Ellen realized she was clutching the blankets beneath her in a manner which would make her hands sore in a moment. She hastily let go and tucked them in her lap. “Tell me, Marianne. Or I will order a carriage and leave at first light.”
Marianne approached the bed and sat down daintily. “Collin will not like that I told you. I must ask you to not say a word to him about this.” Her face had paled and she looked stricken enough that Ellen sighed and offered her a nod of agreement. “Very well. Marcus’s mother has told him if he does not marry soon, she will not allow him to inherit Orchard Hill as long as she is living.”
Ellen’s jaw dropped. “That doesn’t sound like Lady Annesbury at all. It sounds most unfair, actually.”
Marianne waved that comment away. “She wants him settled and with grandchildren for her to spoil. She doesn’t believe he is ready to manage an estate without a woman to manage the house.”
Ellen stood, walking across the room. She took several deep breaths before facing her friend again. “Even if this is true, if he must take a wife, why would he choose me with the ballrooms of London as a hunting ground? I have heard how he flirts. It’s said that a young woman cannot consider herself truly out until she has made her curtsy to the Queen and been winked at by Marcus Calvert.”
“His reputation has run wild.” Marianne attempted a laugh but stopped when Ellen raised a hand to cover her eyes. “Ellen, reputation aside, Marcus would still be a wonderful husband. He is thoughtful, attentive, and moves about society with ease.”
“If Marcus is truly such a wonderful catch, why would he bother wasting even a second with me?" Ellen gestured to her body and threw her arms out in exasperation. “I am not important, not a diamond of the first waters, not an heiress, not titled, I have no connections, and I would be on my seventh season if my family had not decided against the wasted time.”
When Marianne gaped at her, Ellen realized she said more than she meant to say.
“They will not send you to Bath this year? But why?”
“I told you. I will remain unmarried.” Ellen crossed her arms, holding in all she wished to say on that matter. What good would it do to rail against her fate? No one would have her. No one she wanted. She was too old, too intelligent, and too poor to tempt a man to marry her.
“I cannot believe that. When you finally have a year that would be all your own.” Marianne huffed, her expression indignant. “Year after year, you had a sister either expecting, marrying, or coming out and getting engaged. You have never had a season to yourself.”
“That is the way of it in large families.” Ellen began pacing again. “What did Marcus say when you suggested me as a wife? What were his actual words?”
Marianne frowned and looked down. “He actually said that we should not want you to marry him. Because of his lack of position.”
Struck by the absurdity of the situation, Ellen stood in silence for several moments before she felt her lips slip upward into a smile.
“If positions in society were rungs on a ladder, I would be several steps below him. The poor fellow wanted to be civil in his refusal of the idea.” Ellen relaxed and came back to the bed, sadder but immensely relieved. “He will humor you and Collin, then go back to London.”
Marianne opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She stared at Ellen for a long moment. “If that is what you wish to think, I will not dissuade you. Please, Ellen, do be polite to him while you are both guests here.”
“Of course. He is a friend and he cannot help the horrid situation you put him in. Attempting to play matchmaker.” Ellen pulled her braid over her shoulder on the pretense of tightening the ribbon at the end. “Do you have any other interesting news to share?”
When Marianne remained silent, Ellen looked up to see a different sort of smile on her friend’s face.
“There is one other thing of interest. Collin and I are to be parents. In the spring.” Her cheeks pinked, and her eyes took on a starry quality Ellen had seen before in her sisters.
Ignoring a small twinge of envy, Ellen leaned forward and embraced her friend. “Congratulations, this is wonderful news.”
The conversation remained on the impending need to set up a nursery and all the other details important to an expectant mother. Ellen listened attentively, happy for her friend, but longing for such a joy to come to her.
Whatever Marianne believed, Ellen’s chances of marrying were slim. She accepted her place in her family and in society.
At least she tried to.
By the time Marianne left to seek her rest, Ellen knew it would take time for her to settle into sleep. Though their talk ended on a pleasant note, her mind kept turning back to the idea of marrying Marcus.
What would it be like to belong to him? How would her life change?
She slipped beneath the coverlet and snuggled into the plush feather pillows, then toyed with the end of her braid in the semi-darkness. The biggest change for someone like her, she knew, would be running her own household instead of being at the behest of her mother or sisters. She would be free to do things her way as the mistress of an estate. It would fall to her to make certain the servants knew their jobs and fulfilled them well. She would set all the menus. Direct the gardener. Meet with the housekeeper and butler.
If they had tenants, she would go out to meet all of them. Come to know their children. Take them Christmas and Easter baskets of gifts and foodstuffs. Her duty to the community would be important. Ladies’ societies, teas, visits, charity groups, all would become part of her life.
That would be the day-to-day changes. But there would also be the possibility, the expectation and hope, of children.
Ellen allowed her thoughts to linger there, trying to picture a little boy with her dark eyes and Marcus’s curls. She found the image came to her too easily. She waved her hand in the air above her as she attempted to wipe the picture from her mind. Pulling the blanket over her head, she whispered to herself.
“Stop. It will never be.”
Her practical mind failed her and Ellen shed a tear over her fate.