Mary Balogh - Web of Love

She still did not know if it would be wiser to seek out Jennifer and try to talk to her again, or to give the girl time in which to think. She had decided to take the latter course, on the advice of the dowager countess. Her future mother-in-law.

Strangely, she had not found it difficult earlier to pour out the whole story. Perhaps she had still been too distressed over her encounter with Jennifer to feel embarrassment at having to admit the whole truth to Dominic’s mother. Or perhaps the fact that that lady had crossed her sitting room and put an arm about her shoulders and called her her poor dear had had something to do with easing the situation.

“How very delighted I am to hear that you and Dominic are to marry, dear,” the countess had said, kissing her cheek when the story had all been told. “I was so very afraid that you would each be foolish enough to let the other go.”

“You can possibly want me as a daughter-in-law, ma’am?” Ellen had asked.

“I cannot imagine any lady I would want more for Dominic,” the other had assured her. “You will be a companion to him, not merely someone to protect. A companion as well as someone to love is what he has always needed, though he has been foolish enough not to realize it for himself until now.”

“I do love him,” Ellen had assured her. “I am not marrying him just because I am in an awkward situation.”

The dowager had clucked her tongue. “Well, of course you love each other,” she had said. “Now, I will go in search of your stepdaughter. She is a dear and sensible girl. She will need a little time to adjust to the new facts, that is all. Give her that time, dear. Don’t press her. And for now, leave her to me.”

So Ellen had left Jennifer to the dowager countess. And was not at all sure that she had not taken the coward’s way out.

“Dance with me, Ellen?” Lord Eden asked as Miss Letitia and Colin began to play a waltz.

She had planned to keep away from him for the rest of the evening at least. She did not want to make matters worse as far as her stepdaughter was concerned. But it was a waltz, and he was smiling at her, and she could not help but remember how wonderful the afternoon had been before they had arrived home.

“Yes,” she said, placing one hand in his and reaching up the other to rest on his shoulder.

“Is Miss Simpson very upset?” he asked as they began dancing. “From the almost desperate way she seems to be enjoying herself, I would guess that she is.”

“She believes that I was unfaithful to Charlie long before his death,” she said. “She refuses to listen to reason.”

“And if I talk to her, I will only make matters worse, doubtless,” he said.

She nodded. “Your mother had a talk with her this afternoon,” she said. “I went to her and told her everything, I’m afraid.”

“I’m delighted you did,” he said. “I am eager to have this thing right out in the open, Ellen. I want to set a wedding date.”

“Do you?” she said. “I don’t know, Dominic. It still does not seem right.”

He held her hand more tightly. “Oh, no,” he said. “You are not going to change your mind again now, Ellen. Absolutely not. But listen. Miss Letitia and Colin are making a truly heroic effort to sound like a whole orchestra. Let us enjoy the waltz, shall we?”

She almost wished after a couple of minutes that they had continued the conversation, however awkward it might have been. She did not know of a dance that could make one more aware of the man one was partnered by than a waltz. She remembered the time she had waltzed with him at the Duke of Wellington’s ball. The time when she had been pushed against him. When she had become physically aware of him for the first time.

She could smell his cologne again.

“What do you use to wash your hair?” he asked, his smiling green eyes seeming very close. “It must be something quite different from anything used by any other lady of my acquaintance. A very enticing fragrance.”

MR. COURTNEY TOOK a hearty farewell of each of his guests several hours later. But he had something more to say to the Earl and Countess of Amberley, in the strictest confidence. Mr. Courtney spoke sotto voce when speaking in confidence. But since his normal speaking voice was often compared by his fond neighbors to a soft bellow, it was hardly surprising that even his whispers were heard by every one of the departing guests.

Susan, it seemed, had just accepted the offer of Lord Agerton. Not that there was anything public or official yet, of course, the beaming father added for the edification of all his listeners and the mortification of his daughter. Susan would not be out of mourning until the following summer. But they might all expect a late-summer wedding.

“My daughter to be the Viscountess Agerton!” he said, fairly bursting with pride and goodwill. “Well, my lord, who would have thought it?”

Susan blushed and hung her head and peeped up into the face of her future betrothed.

ELLEN WAS ROLLING HER HAIR INTO ITS USUAL knot at the nape of her neck. She had not brought Prudence into the country with her. She had been accustomed for years to managing without the services of a maid.

She was dawdling, she realized. It was well past her usual time of going downstairs to breakfast. And the outdoors certainly looked inviting. Despite fallen leaves and bare branches, there was a look of summer about the clear blue sky and brightly shining sun.

But she was dawdling anyway. And her heart made an uncomfortable lurch when there was a sudden knock on the door of her bedchamber.

“Come in,” she called, and looked in the mirror to see that it was indeed Jennifer who came inside and closed the door quietly behind her. Ellen put down her comb and turned on her stool.

The girl was looking pale, rather as she had looked when Ellen first came home from Belgium.

“Good morning,” she said rather lamely.

“Good morning, Jennifer.” Ellen clasped her hands in her lap.

“You were right,” the girl said in a rush. “When I thought about it, I knew that you were telling me the truth. And Lady Amberley told me that she knows Lord Eden could not behave so dishonorably, and that she did not think you could either. And Lieutenant Penworth says that such things often happen when a woman nurses an injured man. And besides, I think I would have known. Papa might not have, but I think I would.”

She stopped as abruptly as she had begun.

Ellen closed her eyes briefly. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I could have borne to live with your hatred.”

Jennifer crossed the room to the window and stood looking out. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but even though I believe you, I cannot forgive you. I will try not to hate you, but I don’t believe I can ever love you again.”

“I’m sorry too,” Ellen said very quietly. “I did love your father, Jennifer. My whole life was focused on making him happy. And I think I succeeded. I still do love him. I always will.”

“No,” Jennifer said. “You could never have loved him. You are going to marry Lord Eden. And you love him too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Ellen said.

“Well, then, all is said.” Jennifer turned back toward the room, her eyes bleak. “You cannot love twice in a lifetime. Either you loved Papa or you love Lord Eden. Or you have never loved anyone.”

“Oh, Jennifer.” Ellen looked at her pleadingly. “You are very young, dear. I suppose every young girl believes that true love can happen only once to each person. Everyone dreams of finding that one person with whom she can live in bliss for the rest of her life. It does not always happen that way. Love is a far greater gift than any of us realize. I don’t love your father any the less because I love Dominic. And I don’t love Dominic the less because I will always love your father. I can’t choose between the two loves and say that one is greater than the other. I can only tell you that I would have remained faithful to your papa and I would have loved him too for the rest of my life if he had not been snatched from me.”

“I’m sorry, Ellen.” The girl’s eyes looked at her in misery. “I want to forgive you. I love you so much more than I love Aunt Dorothy or Uncle Phillip, or even Grandpapa. You have seemed like my very own even though you are not my real mother, because Papa was happy with you. I want things to be as they were until yesterday, but they can’t ever be the same again, can they?”

Ellen shook her head. “No,” she said. “We can never go back, Jennifer. Only forward. But I am not a different person from the one you loved yesterday morning. And you are not different. Only hurt and bewildered. I think you set me on something of a pedestal, didn’t you, and I have come toppling down. I am just human, alas. But I need you. You may think that because I have Dominic and will have my baby, I will have no further need of you. But you are my only link with my first husband, Jennifer. My loss will be doubled if I lose you too.”

Jennifer stared at her uncertainly, one hand twisting the fabric of her dress. “You will be living at his home in Wiltshire,” she said.

“Probably,” Ellen said. “It will be your home too, whenever you want it to be. Dominic knows that I think of you as my daughter.”

“You won’t want me,” the girl said. “You will have your real son or daughter. You won’t want me.”

“Jennifer!” Ellen rose to her feet for the first time. “Have you not listened to what I have been saying? You are my family. At the moment, you are almost my only family. I am not married yet, and my baby has not been born yet. I have my father, whom I rediscovered in London a few weeks ago, and you. Wherever Dominic chooses to make our home will be yours too. Not because I will consider it a duty to take you in. I will not-your grandfather is quite capable of giving you a home and all the comforts and love to go with it. It will be because I love you and want you as part of my family.”