Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady (6 page)

Mrs Sutton, could, of course, assist his lordship. She had just the gown and if Miss Shelley would only step into the fitting room to try it on, any alterations could be accomplished by mid-afternoon.

‘And anything else you have to hand that would do,’ Elliott called after them. ‘Morning dress, afternoon dress, walking dress. Miss Shelley’s luggage met with an accident.’

Bella was almost speechless by the time she emerged, but Elliott was ruthless and took her firmly off
to find more shops. Reticule, shoes and gloves were easily dealt with, but the lingerie shop was another matter altogether. ‘No.’ She found her voice and dug her heels in after one glance at the froth of lace and gauze in the window. There were no actual garments on display, but she could imagine them only too vividly. ‘I am not going in there with you.’

‘Very well. Will you be all right out here for one moment?’

‘Why, yes, but—’ Elliott walked calmly into the shop leaving her, and the laden footman, outside.

‘Right, in you go.’ He emerged after a few minutes. ‘Sanders, take the shopping back to the carriage and have it come round to collect Miss Shelley in half an hour. I will meet you at the Royal Oak.’ He tipped his hat to Bella and strolled off.

It was impossible to vent one’s feelings in front of the footman. Bella knew that she must preserve the illusion that she knew Elliott very well and not protest about having a stranger buy such intimate garments. She managed to keep a smile firmly on her lips, nodded to Sanders and went in.

It seemed Elliott had merely uttered a sentence containing the words
bride, wedding, tomorrow, everything
and left. After a few minutes Bella mentally added,
outrageous, extravagant and indecent.

‘This is transparent,’ she protested, peering over the top of the garment being held up before her. ‘And what is it, anyway?’ She would look like the loose woman she now was.

‘A nightgown, madam. Here is the négligé and the
slippers to match. I thought this set as well? And this. Oh, yes, and this would be enchanting with your colouring, if I might be so bold. Millie, only the best Indian muslin for Miss Shelley’s underthings, mind. Oh, and that Swiss embroidery, as well. Now, stays…’

Whenever Bella tried to protest that there was enough the three assistants shook their heads and informed her that his lordship had been quite clear in his instructions and they would not dream of stopping until they had fulfilled them.

‘And handkerchiefs,’ the assistant said finally. ‘There. Now we will just pack them up, Miss Shelley, if you would like a cup of tea?’

It was almost worth it to see Sanders’s face as he was loaded up with dainty packages and bandboxes, striped and beribboned. Almost.

Elliott was lounging in a private parlour at the Royal Oak, the day’s newssheets spread out on the table, a jug of coffee by his side, but he got to his feet as she entered. ‘Coffee, Arabella?’

‘Thank you, no.’ Her stomach revolted at the smell. ‘Tea, please.’

She could almost pretend this was normal, sipping tea in a strange city, alone with a man she had known for less than twenty-four hours, wearing a fashionable bonnet and expecting to visit a bishop. This was the sort of thing—without the bishop, of course—that she had once dreamed of doing with Rafe. The room blurred and she swallowed, disciplining her thoughts.

‘
I
s everything all right, Arabella?’ Elliott enquired. ‘Have you finished your shopping?’

‘Thank you, yes.’ Bella struggled between politeness and honesty. ‘I cannot help but feel that this has been an entirely too-extravagant morning.’

‘Did you not enjoy it?’ Elliott watched her over the rim of his cup and she could not decide whether he was amused or displeased at her lack of enthusiasm.

‘Of course not.’
I have a mind above such frivolity.
But honesty won. ‘No…Yes, I did. Most of it. It was very pleasant to choose nice things.’ She felt herself colour up and his eyes crinkled at the corners in response. Elliott appeared to like her blushes, which was disconcerting. They had amused Rafe too, she reminded herself, sobering instantly.

‘It is the bare minimum, of course. But I thought that you would wish to have the
modiste
call privately at the Hall so you can discuss your requirements
when…’ he waved a hand vaguely in front of himself ‘…your figure changes.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Something else to blush about. Perhaps it was better to abandon all pretence of modesty. ‘I think that will happen soon, but the current mode is helpful in disguising things.’

There was a tap at the door and a waiter began to bring in food. Bread and butter, some cold meats and cheese, fruit cake. ‘You have to eat properly,’ Elliott observed, buttering bread for her when she sat and just looked at the table.

‘I know. I was thinking about something else.’ Bella added a little chicken to her plate and told herself that the baby needed the food and she needed her strength. So far, thank goodness, she had developed none of the cravings for strange foods that Polly the laundry maid had reported. Coal and honey had been one messy result.

But men were not interested in such feminine things, she knew. Elliott was being very forbearing, even discussing her morning sickness. Years of subduing her own feelings and desires came to her rescue as she searched for acceptable conversation. ‘Who will be at the wedding?’ she asked.

‘Cousin Dorothy, my great-aunt Lady Abbotsbury, if she feels up to it, and my friend and neighbour John Baynton, who will be my groomsman.’ He frowned. ‘Who can give you away?’

‘Miss Dorothy?’

Elliott laughed, the first time she had heard him do so out loud. The sound made her smile, it was so infectious. ‘She would love that, I am sure, but it would
cause even more talk if we do something so unconventional.’ His amusement vanished as he studied her face. ‘What is it?’

‘You sound just like Rafe when you laugh. It was the only time his voice was as deep as yours.’ Rafe had laughed a lot. All the time, except when he was suddenly intense, gazing deep into her eyes, his own so blue. She had thought they must be the bluest eyes in the world until she saw Elliott’s, darker, more vivid, like deep ocean water with cold, dangerous currents beneath the warm surface.

‘I am sorry. I must be a constant, painful reminder.’ His lips thinned as he helped himself to a slice of beef and added mustard lavishly from the pewter pot. She must stop this, he did not need her throwing her memories of his brother in his face at every turn.

‘No, not at all. I will become accustomed. It is simply a matter of self-discipline and I will learn to forget my experience with Rafe,’ she added bleakly. Soon, surely, she would be able to look at him and not see Rafe’s face like a translucent mask overlaying Elliott’s? She had to remember that this was another man altogether, one she could trust, one who would not abuse her. She had to believe that.

‘In the meantime I will endeavour not to laugh.’

Was that said sarcastically or was he in earnest? She would have to learn to read him if she was to be a good wife.

‘Thank you, but that will not be necessary,’ Bella murmured, fighting down the panic at the thought of everything she must learn. A good wife, a good mother and
a good viscountess: three new roles to learn and so many things that she could do wrong. She ate another slice of bread. She was a competent, experienced housekeeper, so the domestic side of things held no terrors. She would love the baby, so she could trust her instincts there. Elliott would tell her what she needed to do to be a proper viscountess. But how was she to learn to be a good wife to a man she did not know and did not love without blundering, hurting them both—assuming he ever cared enough to be hurt by her clumsiness?

‘Have you finished, Arabella?’

‘Thank you, yes.’ How long had she been sitting there brooding? ‘Is it time to go and see the bishop now?’

‘It is.’ He stood up and held out his hand to her. ‘Just curtsy, call him
My lord
and leave the talking to me. If he asks something difficult, simply look to me adoringly and I’ll deal with it. Can you do that?’

‘Yes,’ she said. It was becoming quite easy to think that Elliott was someone she could look to for help. Whether or not she could manage a look of adoration, she was less sure. She must remember that for him, this was strictly a matter of honour and duty, she must not come to rely upon him emotionally.

‘Thank you, my lord.’ Bella managed a creditable curtsy and took Elliott’s arm. In his other hand he held a wedding licence.
Soon
, she thought,
soon you will be safe, Baby.
Resisting the urge to back away, as though in the presence of royalty, she preceded Elliott out through the door, keeping silent because of the liveried footmen and a passing cleric with an armful of papers.

‘That went very well,’ Elliott observed as they walked across College Green behind the cathedral.

‘Yes,’ Bella agreed. To her relief the bishop had shown no surprise at Lord Hadleigh arriving with a redeyed, drab female on his arm and requesting a special licence. Elliott sounded quite pleased, not at all as though he was merely resigned to this wedding. Her heart lifted a little. ‘Elliott, do you mind so very much?’

He caught her meaning and his lips firmed, making him look rather formidable. ‘I mind a lot less than I would having you and the child on my conscience. I told you, Arabella, this is my duty; you need have no fear that I will not perform it to the best of my ability.’

It was not his duty she was worried about, it was his feelings, but the wretched man seemed ready to discuss anything rather than those. ‘No, I was not—’ she began.

‘Elliott!’ The man crossing the greensward was as tall as Elliott, but darker, slimmer and, as a ready smile creased his face, apparently more light-hearted at the moment.

‘Daniel.’ Elliott held out his hand and as the other man shook it enthusiastically she saw he bore a resemblance to both Elliott and Rafe.

‘Good to see you out and about after the funeral. Who would have thought it? In his prime, poor Rafe. I am having trouble believing it. Difficult for you.’

‘You could say that. Arabella, allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Mr Calne. Daniel, Miss Shelley.’

Bella smiled and shook hands. They were friends, she could tell at once. Elliott and his cousin had exchanged looks that said more than they had put into words. Why had he not told Mr Calne at once that they
were to be wed? Surely the more relatives present, the more normal the whole thing would appear, not that she wanted to face them. Perhaps he thought she would be embarrassed. She nudged Elliott’s booted foot with her toe and he looked down at her. ‘I wonder if Mr Calne might not be free tomorrow?’

‘Of course. Our interview with the bishop has sent my wits wandering, obviously.’ He smiled. ‘Daniel, you must congratulate me. Miss Shelley and I are to be wed.’

There was a moment while his cousin stared at Elliott blankly. Bella had the fleeting impression that he was very surprised indeed. Then he seemed to pull himself together. ‘My dear fellow!’ Mr Calne slapped Elliott on the back and beamed at Bella. ‘My felicitations. And am I to guess from your reference to Bishop Huntingford that the ceremony is to be soon?’

‘Yes, tomorrow. Miss Shelley’s father does not approve the match, although she is of age, and things were becoming a trifle uncomfortable for her at home, so we have expedited matters.’

Bella took a firmer grip on Elliott’s arm and smiled warmly, trying to look like a loving fiancée. ‘Perhaps Mr Calne could solve our problem, dearest.’

Elliott’s eyebrows rose a trifle at the endearment. ‘Which one, my love?’ he countered, the corner of his mouth twitching.

There are so many
, Bella thought, fighting the impulse to smile back. ‘Why, someone to give me away, of course.’

‘Of course.’ He smiled at her; obviously she had said the right thing. ‘Daniel? Will you do that duty?’

‘I would be honoured!’ Mr Calne beamed at both of them and Bella found herself smiling back. Elliott was pleased, at least one of his family was pleased and she liked the enthusiastic cousin.

‘Come for luncheon,’ Elliott said. ‘The ceremony will take place at three. You’ll stay the night?’

‘That would be delightful, if the new Lady Hadleigh has no objections. I have concluded my business in Worcester and I will be returning to my home, which is some way beyond Hadleigh Old Hall,’ he explained to Bella. ‘It would be most pleasant to break my journey. Now, I will bid you farewell—I am sure you would much prefer your own company just at the moment. I will see you this evening, Elliott. Until tomorrow, Miss Shelley.’ He resumed his hat and strode off.

‘He seems very pleasant,’ Bella commented. Elliott was silent and her heart sank. She had erred, been too forward, and they were not even married yet. ‘I am sorry,’ she ventured. ‘I’m afraid I—’

‘There is no need to apologise,’ Elliott said brusquely. ‘You are about to become the Countess Hadleigh, you are not the vicar’s daughter any longer.’

She
was
afraid, that was the problem—there were so many things she could get wrong—and now perhaps she had irritated Elliott and, whether he liked it or not, just now he was the only stable point in her universe. She bit her lip; it seemed at the moment that she had the strength for only one thing at a time, and a dissatisfied fiancé was one too many.
Courage
, she told herself.

‘I’m sorry.’ Elliott stopped and looked down at her. ‘Of course you are anxious. Daniel’s a good fellow, and
an optimist. I sometimes think he will be making a merry quip in the middle of the Day of Judgement. He’s a lawyer, a hard worker. He got on Rafe’s nerves—too solid, not enough fun.’

Bella heard the edge to his voice when he mentioned Rafe, but at least he was not cross with her. She let him tuck her hand under his elbow as they began to walk again.

‘His father, my Uncle Clarence, who died some time ago, was my father’s only brother. His widow lived in London with my father’s two sisters until she died last year. You will meet them when we go up to town next year.’

‘Will you not invite them to the Hall?’ Surely that would be usual, with a new wife to introduce to the family. ‘Or should we not visit them?’ She dreaded the thought, but there would be no avoiding that duty. All families with any pretensions to gentility kept up the tradition of bride visits. She glanced round as they passed under the great medieval gate arch, momentarily distracted by the pinkish stone, so very different from Suffolk plaster and brick.

‘They rarely travel and I imagine you would prefer to find your feet before entertaining a houseful of demanding ladies.’ Elliott put out a hand to stop her as a man went past with a basket full of salmon on his head, still dripping from the river. ‘As for going up to London before the end of the year, I do not think the Town house is in a fit state.’

That must be an excuse. Rafe had mentioned his London home; he could hardly have been living in squalor. Presumably Elliott did not want her exposed to his relatives until she had acquired some of the polish
a viscountess required, or he was embarrassed because her pregnancy would show by then.

It was lowering that he was ashamed of her, but, under the circumstances, hardly unexpected. And perhaps he had his mistress in London, another lowering thought. Fashionable marriages accommodated such unsavoury realities, she knew. She must learn to accept it and not embarrass Elliott with her provincial attitudes.

‘Very well, Elliott.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw him give her a quizzical look, but he did not challenge this meekness. ‘Then your relatives at the Dower House are on your mother’s side?’

‘Yes. Great-Aunt Alice is my mother’s older sister, Lady Abbotsbury, and Dorothy her unmarried daughter. There are three other daughters, all married and living some distance away. I expect you will soon make acquaintances in the area.’

‘Is local society congenial?’ The thought of new friends, probing and becoming intimate, was unsettling. They would be more people to hide the truth from.

They were back at the Royal Oak and the carriage was waiting. ‘Congenial? I hardly know. They came to the funeral, of course, and made duty condolence calls, but I cannot say I know any of them.’

‘But surely you know the neighbourhood very well?’ Bella settled back against the squabs, thankful for the physical comfort after the aching misery of the stage the day before.

‘I have not lived at the Hall since I went to university.’

‘But you must have visited frequently?’

‘No.’ It seemed he had not intended to expand on that
monosyllable, but the surprise must have shown on her face. ‘My mother died just before I went up and then my father had a hunting accident while I was at Oxford. I assumed Rafe would want me to manage the estate—he had no taste for that kind of thing and had made it plain often enough that it bored him. But it appeared he felt more…territorial about it than I had foreseen.’

‘He rejected your offer of help?’

‘He accused me of wanting to take over, usurp his position in local society. For some reason he appeared to find me a threat. I was young enough to be hurt, and for that to appear as temper. We had a blazing row, I punched him on his very beautiful nose—you may have noticed the slight bump—and that was that. We hardly exchanged a civil word for eight years and I was
persona non grata
at the Hall.’