Mary Balogh - Web of Love

“Papa,” she said when she was leaving, wrapping her arms about his neck and standing on tiptoe so that she might lay her cheek against his. “Papa, the very worst thing I ever did was to turn my back on you, thinking that somehow it was the honorable thing to do. I don’t care if you are my real father or not. I really don’t care. You are my papa, and that is all that matters.”

“And this is your home,” he said, patting her reassuringly on the back. “You must come here, Ellie, when you come back from Amberley’s home. You must not rush into buying a place that you may not really like. You must come here. I’ll stay sober if you come home, you know.”

She withdrew her cheek from his and smiled up into his face. “No, you won’t, Papa,” she said. “Be honest. But it does not matter. I love you anyway.”

He smiled a little sheepishly.

And so the visit to her father-in-law was made, where Ellen lived through surely the most uncomfortable half-hour of her life. And could not collapse with relief even when it was over, because it had to be repeated with her sister-in-law.

She asked only that Jennifer not be told. She would tell the girl in her own time. At the end of the visit to Amberley, she planned. Indeed, she was somewhat surprised that someone did not suggest that she was no fit companion for Jennifer and should not accompany the girl into the country. But no one did say that. In fact, Dorothy was not even unkind and did not order her from the house.

It had all been a lot easier-and many times worse-than she had anticipated.

LORD EDEN HAD a few confrontations of his own to face before leaving London behind him.

His twin did not even allow him the night in which to get used to the totally new fact of his life. She came to his dressing room soon after he had escorted Susan home, and came inside without waiting for his valet to answer her knock. He dismissed his man.

“Dom,” she said, leaning back against the door, “did you know?”

He did not pretend ignorance. “No,” he said.

“It is yours?”

“She says not,” he said.

“I saw you talking to her.” She pushed away from the door and came toward him. “Is there any chance that she is lying, Dom? You were lovers, weren’t you?”

“She says it is Charlie’s,” he said, turning away from her.

“Oh, Dom,” she said, “I am so very, very sorry. And tomorrow you leave. And you will never see her again.”

“I am going to Amberley,” he said.

“Oh.” There was silence for a moment. She sounded almost her normal cheerful self when she broke it. “You are going to fight, then. I am glad to hear it. She is by far the most sensible female who has ever taken your fancy, Dom.”

“She has not taken my fancy,” he said. “There is nothing between us, Mad. Except this, of course. There are a few matters to settle, that is all.”

“Yes,” she said, “that is all.” She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek and whisked herself from the room. She paused as she was closing the door. “But that is quite enough, Dom. I know it. I feel it in my bones.” She laughed lightly as she shut the door.

Edmund was not nearly so sympathetic or so easy to deal with. It was a mere courtesy call Lord Eden made to inform his brother of his intentions. He found him in the library.

“What is happening?” the earl said with a frown. “You are coming to Amberley, Dominic?”

“You don’t need to look quite so enthusiastic,” Lord Eden said with a grin.

“I am not particularly enthusiastic,” his brother said. “We have invited guests. I think you know that one of them may not welcome your presence there too.”

“Ellen?”

“Well, you tell me,” the earl said. “Will she mind your being there, Dominic? I don’t know quite what happened in Brussels, and I do not know what has happened since. And I would not presume to pry. But she did not look overjoyed to see you when you arrived here a few afternoons ago.”

“She knows I am going,” Lord Eden said, “and says that she is still planning to go too.”

Lord Amberley looked uncertain. “Well,” he said, “there is not much I can say, then, is there? Amberley is your home, Dominic. I would never dream of closing its doors to you. But I will make one thing clear. I will not have Mrs. Simpson harassed. Is that clear?”

“I feel like a young boy who has been hauled onto the carpet,” Lord Eden said. “I will not harass her, Edmund. But I have to be there. Do you understand?”

“No, quite frankly, I don’t,” his brother said. “But you are an adult, Dominic. I will not even try to tell you how you should behave, beyond what I must do to protect a guest in my home, of course.”

“Of course,” Lord Eden said. “I will take myself off, then, Edmund.” But he paused with his hand on the library door. He did not turn his head. “You will doubtless hear it from Madeline or Anna. I might as well tell you myself. She is increasing.”

He continued on his way out of the room.

BEING AT HOME AGAIN AFTER SUCH A LONG absence was a pleasure too deep to put into words, the Earl of Amberley found. Fortunately for him, he was able to communicate with his wife at a level beyond words, and he knew that she shared his happiness. It seemed incredible to him that there could ever have been a time without Alex. Yet they had been married for only a little longer than three years.

His guests arrived only a scant day after his own family, and at the same time the Carringtons were coming home, bringing with them Walter’s friend Lord Agerton. And Susan and Mrs. Courtney had decided to travel down in their company.

There were visits to receive-from large, genial Mr. Courtney, who was beaming with delight at the prospect of having his beloved daughter and his wife home once more, and from the rector, who brought the local news, including the fact that Miss Letitia Stanhope was recovering from a severe chill and that his dear helpmate was in expectation of a happy event. The happy event had been an annual one for a number of years.

And there were visits to be made-to the Mortons and the Cartwrights, to the Misses Stanhope and the rector’s wife, to Mr. Watson. And to his dearest friend, Sir Perry Lampman, and his family. And of course to the laborers on his estate.

There were guests to entertain. He spent the whole of a morning showing off Amberley Court to Mrs. Simpson and her stepdaughter. And he spent more than an hour of the afternoon showing Lieutenant Penworth the music room and the long gallery, before the latter tired and sat at a window in the gallery to look out along the valley that led to the sea and the cliffs. Madeline stayed there with him.

The earl and countess organized a dinner party on the first full day their guests were in their home. There were to be twenty persons present.

“Twenty!” the countess said in some amazement. “Is it possible, Edmund? There seemed to be only a handful when we listed them off. But now when I write the names down, I find there are twenty.”

“It is just that we are familiar with almost all of them, Alex,” he said, “and do not feel there will be any great effort involved in entertaining them all. Now, twenty strangers would be a formidable prospect.”

“Yes,” she said, “I suppose you are right.”

The Carringtons were invited with Lord Agerton, Mr. and Mrs. Courtney with Susan and their eldest son, Howard, Mr. Watson, and Sir Peregrine and Lady Grace Lampman.

Ellen was enjoying herself in a somewhat tense sort of way. It was not comfortable to be in the same house as Lord Eden, of course, and she fully expected that he would find the opportunity soon to carry out some of the threats he had made at her father-in-law’s house. But so far he had stayed away from her. He had been out visiting friends much of the time. He had sat talking with his sister and the lieutenant for hours on end. He had accompanied Jennifer to the Carringtons’.

But if she could ignore what she knew must be coming, she could feel a certain contentment. The house and its surroundings were quite magnificent, though she had not yet seen the sea or been up onto the cliffs or been inland along the valley, all of which she had been told they would do during the next few days.

And the earl and countess were kindness itself, and treated her as a real friend rather than merely as a guest in their home. The countess had taken her to the nursery to see the children, and had marveled again that the baby was willing to come to her, though she did not smile. She rarely smiled for anyone except her father, Lady Amberley had explained.

The dowager countess was equally kind, as was Lady Madeline, though her time was taken up mainly with her betrothed.

And yet they must all know. They must know that she was with child. And they must suspect that it was not her husband’s. Yet nothing was said, and there was no detectable hostility in their manner.

She sat between Mr. Carrington and Sir Peregrine Lampman at dinner and was thoroughly entertained by the humor of both. She could not remember when she had laughed quite so much.

And after dinner, when some of the young people went downstairs to the music room and Susan Jennings held court to Mr. Watson, Lord Agerton, and Sir Peregrine, telling them of her dreadful experiences in Spain, Ellen sat with Lady Amberley and Lady Lampman, who talked of their children.

“We are being dreadfully rag-mannered,” the countess said after a few minutes. “I am afraid, Mrs. Simpson, that we mothers of young children become dreadful bores when we discover other ladies in like case. Grace has a daughter just a little older than Christopher, and a son a little older than Caroline. And I must make sure, you see, that my two cut their teeth and smiled and crawled and slept through the night, and so on and so on, at no later an age than hers. It would be shameful to find that mine had lagged behind.” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.