“Charles?” Claire choked out. “Please say something.”
Charles set Ellie's cup back down in its saucer with the slow, rigid movements of one whose control is about to snap. “I am trying to think of one good reason why I shouldn't pack you off and send you to a work house this minute. In fact,” he added, his voice rising by the second, “I am trying to think of one good reason why I shouldn't bloody well kill you!”
“Charles!” Ellie exclaimed.
But by now he was on his feet and advancing in Claire's direction. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?”
“Charles,” Ellie repeated.
“You stay out of this,” he snapped.
“I most certainly will not.”
Charles ignored her as he jabbed a finger in Claire's direction. “I suppose you're responsible for the kitchen fire as well.”
She nodded miserably, tears streaming down her face. “And the stew,” she gasped. “That was my fault, too. And the orangery.”
“Why, Claire? Why?”
She clutched at her midsection as she sobbed, “I can't say.”
He grabbed her shoulder and spun her to face him. “You will explain yourself to me, and you will do it this instant.”
“I can't!”
“Do you understand what you've done?” Charles shook her roughly and turned her to face Ellie's bed. “Look at her! Look at her hands! You did this.”
Claire was sobbing so hard that Ellie thought she would crumple to the ground if Charles weren't shaking her by the shoulders. “Charles, stop!” Ellie cried out, unable to watch this any longer. “Can't you see she's upset?”
“As well she should be,” he snarled.
“Charles, that is enough! She has told me she is sorry, and I accept her apology.”
“Well, I don't.”
If Ellie's hands weren't bandaged and throbbing with pain, she would have smacked him. “It isn't your apology to accept,” she ground out.
“Don't you want an explanation?”
“She has already given me one.”
Charles was so surprised he actually dropped Claire.
“I have given her my vow that I would not tell you about it.”
“Why?”
“That is between Claire and me.”
“Ellie…” His voice held a clear note of warning.
“I will not break my word,” she said firmly. “And I believe you value honesty enough not to ask me to do so.”
Charles let out an irritated breath and raked his hand through his hair. Ellie had him backed neatly into a corner. “She must be punished,” he finally said. “I insist upon it.”
Ellie nodded. “Of course. Claire has behaved very badly and must answer to the consequences. But I will decide upon the punishment, not you.”
He rolled his eyes. Ellie was so softhearted, she'd probably send the girl to her room for a night and be done with it.
His wife, however, surprised him when she turned to Claire, who was sitting on the floor where Charles had dropped her. “Claire,” Ellie said, “how do you think you should be punished?”
Claire was also obviously surprised, because she didn't say anything, just sat there with her mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“Claire?” Ellie said gently.
“I could clean up the mess in the orangery.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Ellie said. “I started clearing it out this morning with Charles, but we didn't accomplish very much. You will need to do a great deal of replanting as well. Many plants have died this past fortnight.”
Claire nodded. “I could also clean the jam from the kitchen.”
“That has already been done,” Charles said, his tone clipped.
New tears formed in Claire's eyes, and she turned to Ellie for moral support.
“What I would like above all else,” Ellie said softly, “would be for you to inform every member of this household that the mishaps of the past week were not my fault. I have been trying to find my place here at Wycombe Abbey, and I have not appreciated being made to look foolish and inept.”
Claire closed her eyes and nodded.
“It won't be easy for you,” Ellie conceded, “but coming here and apologizing to me wasn't easy, either. You're a strong girl, Claire. Stronger than you think.”
For the first time that evening, Claire actually smiled, and Ellie knew that everything was going to be all right.
Charles cleared his throat and said, “I think Ellie has had enough excitement for one day, Claire.”
Ellie shook her head and crooked her finger toward Claire. “Come here a moment,” she said. When Claire reached her bedside, Ellie whispered in her ear, “And do you know what else I think?”
Claire shook her head.
“I think that someday you will be very glad that Charles wasn't able to wait for you.”
Claire turned to Ellie with questioning eyes.
“Love will find you when you least expect it,” Ellie said softly. Then she added, “And when you're old enough.”
Claire giggled, prompting Charles to grumble, “What the devil are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing,” Ellie replied. “Now then, let Claire run along. She has quite a bit of work to do.”
Charles stepped aside to allow Claire to dash from the room. Once the door had shut behind her, he turned to Ellie and said, “You were too lenient with her.”
“It was my decision, not yours,” Ellie said, her voice suddenly weary. It had taken a great deal of her already sapped energy to deal with a furious husband and sobbing cousin.
His eyes narrowed. “Are you in pain?”
She nodded. “Could I have that second dose of laudanum now?”
Charles moved quickly to her side and held the glass to her lips, smoothing her hair while she gulped the contents down. Ellie yawned and settled back down against her pillows, resting her bandaged hands carefully atop the bedcovers. “I know you believe I wasn't stern enough with Claire,” she said, “but I think she's learned her lesson.”
“I shall have to take your word for that, won't I, since you refuse to tell me what she said in her defense?”
“She didn't try to defend herself at all. She knows what she did was wrong.”
Charles stretched his legs out on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “You're a remarkable woman, Eleanor Wycombe.”
She gave him a sleepy yawn. “I certainly don't mind hearing you say it.”
“Most people would not have been as forgiving.”
“Don't let that fool you. I can be quite vindictive when it's called for.”
“Is that so?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice.
Ellie yawned again and settled against him. “Will you stay here tonight? At least until I fall asleep?”
He nodded and kissed her temple.
“Good. It's warmer with you here.”
Charles blew out the candle and laid back down on top of the covers. Then, once he was sure she was asleep, he touched his heart and whispered, “It's warmer in here, too.”
Chapter 17
Ellie spent the next morning recuperating in bed. Charles rarely left her side, and when he did, he was immediately replaced by a member of the Pallister family—most often Helen or Judith, since Claire was busy cleaning up the mess she'd made in the orangery.
By early afternoon, however, she was beginning to lose her patience with Charles and his everpresent bottle of laudanum.
“It is very sweet of you to be so concerned about my burns,” Ellie said, trying to placate him, “but truly the pain is not as dreadful as yesterday, and beside that, I can't seem to last through a conversation without falling asleep.”
“No one minds,” he assured her.
“I mind.”
“I've already allowed you to reduce your dose by half.”
“And it still leaves me half out of my mind. I can bear a little pain, Charles.
I'm no weakling.”
“Ellie, you don't have to be a martyr.”
“I don't want to be a martyr. I just want to be myself.”
He looked doubtful, but he put the bottle back on the bedside table. “If your hands start to hurt…”
“I know, I know. I—” Ellie breathed a sign of relief as someone knocked at the door, effectively ending the conversation. Charles still looked as if he might change his mind and pour the laudanum down her throat at the slightest provocation. “Come in!” she called out.
Judith bounded in, her dark blond hair pulled away from her face. “Good day, Ellie,” she chirped.
“Good day, Judith. It's fine to see you.”
The young girl nodded regally and climbed up on the bed.
“Don't I rate a greeting?” Charles asked.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Judith replied. “Good day to you, Charles, but you will have to leave.”
Ellie choked down a laugh.
“And why is that?” he demanded.
“I have extremely important matters to discuss with Ellie. Private matters.”
“Is that so?”
Judith raised her brows in a supercilious expression that somehow fit her little six-year-old face perfectly. “Indeed. Although I suppose you may remain while I give Ellie her present.”
“How very generous of you,” Charles said.
“A present! How thoughtful!” Ellie said at the exact same time.
“I painted you a picture.” Judith held up a small watercolor.
“It's beautiful, Judith,” Ellie exclaimed, regarding the blue, green, and red slashes. “It's lovely. It's…it's…”
“It's the meadow,” Judith said.
Ellie breathed a huge sigh of relief that she didn't have to hazard a guess.
“See?” the little girl continued. “This is the grass, and this is the sky. And these are the apples on the apple tree.”
“Where is the tree trunk?” Charles inquired.
Judith scowled at him. “I ran out of brown.”
“Would you like me to order you some more?”
“I would like that above all else.”
Charles smiled. “I wish all women were as easy to please.”
“We're not so unreasonable,” Ellie felt compelled to say as a general defense of her gender.
Judith planted her hands on her hips, clearly irritated that she didn't understand what the adults were talking about. “You shall have to leave now, Charles. As I said, I need to speak with Ellie. It's very important.”
“Is it?” he asked. “Too important for me? The earl? The one who is supposedly in charge of this pile of stones?”
“The key word there would be ‘supposedly,’” Ellie said with a smile. “I suspect it is Judith who really runs the household.”
“You are no doubt correct,” he said wryly.
“We shall need at least half an hour, I should think,” said Judith. “Perhaps longer. Either way, you should be sure to knock before you reenter. I shouldn't want you to interrupt us.”
Charles stood and headed for the door. “I can see that I have been summarily dismissed.”
“A half an hour!” Judith yelled at his retreating form.
He poked his head back in the doorway. “You, poppet, are a tyrant.”
“Charles,” Ellie said in her best mock-irritated voice, “Judith has requested a private audience.”
“Precocious brat,” he muttered.
“I heard that,” Judith said with a smile, “and it only means that you love me.”
“No fooling this one,” Ellie said, reaching out to tousle her hair, and then remembering that she couldn't.
“Watch out for your hands!” Charles ordered.
“Run along,” Ellie returned, unable to suppress a little chuckle at ordering him about.
They heard his grumbling all the way down the hall. Judith giggled into her hand the entire time.
“Very well, then,” Ellie said, “what did you need to talk with me about?”
“Charles's birthday celebration. Claire told Mama and me that you wanted to plan a party.”
“Oh yes, of course. I'm so glad you remembered. I'm afraid I won't be able to do much of the work, but I am quite excellent at ordering people about.”
Judith giggled. “No, I will be in charge.”
“May I be second in command, then?”
“Of course.”
“Then I suppose we have a deal,” Ellie said. “And since I cannot shake your hand, we will have to seal it with a kiss.”
“Done!” Judith crawled across the bed and gave Ellie a loud kiss on the cheek.
“Good. Now I just need to kiss you back, and then we can begin making our plans.”
Judith waited while Ellie kissed the top of her head and then said, “I think we should have Monsieur Belmont bake a big cake. Enormous! With butter-cream frosting.”
“Enormous, or merely huge?” Ellie asked with a smile.
“Enormous!” Judith yelled, waving her arms in the air to demonstrate. “And we can—”
“Ow!” Ellie yelped in pain as one of the little girl's hands connected with her own.
Judith immediately jumped off of the bed. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was an accident. I swear it.”
“I know,” Ellie said, gritting her teeth against the pain. “It's not a problem, poppet. Just get that bottle on the table and pour a little into the cup.”
“How much? This much?” Judith pointed with her finger to the middle of the cup, about a half a dose.
“No, half that,” Ellie replied. A quarter dose seemed the perfect compromise—enough to take the edge off the pain but hopefully not enough to make her drowsy and disoriented. “But don't tell Charles.”
“Why not?”
“Just don't.” And then she muttered, “I hate it when he's right.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Ellie drank from the cup Judith held to her mouth and said, “It's nothing. Now then, we have plans to make, don't we?”
They spent the next fifteen minutes on the grave topic of butter-cream frosting, arguing the merits of chocolate versus vanilla.
Later that day, Charles emerged through the connecting door between their rooms carrying a sheet of paper. “How are you feeling?” he inquired.
“Much better, thank you, although it's rather difficult to flip the pages of my book.”
One corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Have you been trying to read?”
“Trying' would be the operative word,” she said wryly.
He walked to her side and flipped a page, looking down at her book as he did so. “And how is our dear Miss Dashwood faring this afternoon?” he asked.
Ellie looked at him with a confused expression until she realized he'd been peeking at the copy of Sense and Sensibility she'd been attempting to read. “Very well,” she replied. “I think Mr. Ferrars is going to propose at any minute.”
“How utterly thrilling,” he replied, and she had to admire him for keeping such a perfectly straight face.
“Here, turn the book over,” she said. “I've had enough reading for the afternoon.”
“Do you perhaps need another quarter dose of laudanum?”
“How did you know about that?”
He raised a brow. “I know all, sweetling.”
“I imagine what you know is how to bribe Judith.”
“That is a valuable thing to know, indeed.”
She rolled her eyes. “A quarter dose would be much appreciated, thank you.”
He poured the liquid and gave it to her, rubbing at his arm as he did so.
“Oh dear,” Ellie said. “I'd forgotten all about your arm. How is it feeling?”
“Not half as bad as your hands. You needn't worry about it.”
“But I won't be able to remove the stitches.”
“I'm sure someone else can do it. Helen, probably. She's forever working at her embroidery and needlework.”
>
“I suppose. I do hope you're not being a stoic, refusing to tell me how much it hurts. If I find out that you have—”
“For the love of God, Ellie, you have been seriously injured. Stop worrying about me.”
“It's much easier to worry about you than to sit here and think about my hands.”
He smiled understandingly. “It's difficult for you to remain inactive, isn't it?”
“Extremely so.”
“Very well, why don't we have one of those conversations I'm told husbands and wives have?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You say to me something like, ‘Darling, darling husband—’”
“Oh, please.”
He ignored her. “‘—my dearest, darlingest husband, how have you fared this fine day?’”
Ellie let out a big sigh. “Oh, all right. I can play at this game, I suppose.”
“Very sporting of you,” he said approvingly.
She shot him a peevish look and asked, “How have you been keeping yourself busy, fair husband? I heard you moving about in the next room.”
“I was pacing.”
“Pacing? That sounds serious.”
He grinned slowly. “I've been making up a new list.”
“A new list? I am breathless with anticipation. What is it titled?”
“‘Seven Ways to Entertain Eleanor.’”
“Only seven? I had no idea I was that easily amused.”
“I can assure you I have put a great deal of thought into this.”
“I'm certain you have. The treadmarks on the carpet in your chamber can attest to that.”
“Do not poke fun at my poor, beleaguered carpet. Pacing is the least of my woes. If the rest of our marriage is anything like this past fortnight, my head shall be completely gray by the time I turn thirty.”
Ellie knew that that momentous occasion was due to happen the very next day, but she didn't want to spoil the surprise party she had planned with the Pallisters, so she feigned ignorance and merely said, “I am certain that our lives will continue on a much more peaceful note now that I have made my peace with Claire.”
“I should certainly hope so,” he said, sounding rather like a disgruntled young boy. “Now then, do you want to hear my new list? I've been working all afternoon on it.”