Embracing Ashberry (37 page)

Ellie quickly came to realize that her
husband, despite his business acumen and his acceptance of the
necessity for it, detested having overnight guests—and not simply
because it deprived him of the evening hours he treasured alone
with Ellie, when they played billiards, chess or each other. Most
of the visitors, he told her ruefully, were not people he with whom
he would care to socialize. Ellie had simply smiled in reply,
reminding both that the marquess seemed to not desire to socialize
with anyone not welcome in his own bed.

The marchioness tried, once, to return her
five borrowed shillings to Ashberry. He refused the coin, instead
claiming his kisses. When they were alone, no matter what the time
of day or the risk of discovery, Ellie would find his arms
possessively around her and their mouths locked together. Their
nights together were filled with raw tenderness, at times blatant
need, even possessiveness by both and they lay in the other’s
embrace every night with a better understanding of the others’ joys
and moods. Ellie never forgot Ashberry’s words from that first
night, but he did not repeat them verbatim. Instead, he took to
calling her ‘my love’, a clear reminder that did not pressure her
into returning the endearment.

When she ached the most, when his hands
burned her and her blood was boiling, she nearly told him so but,
Ellie told herself, she couldn’t be sure that what she felt wasn’t
simply gratitude mixed with lust. So she remained silent, not
trusting her instinct over her deeply ingrained restraint. Love,
she knew most decidedly was unconditionally sacrificing, a selfless
emotion and what Ellie felt for Ashberry was far from selfless—it
was hunger for his touch and her eagerness to hear his voice,
possessiveness that he was hers, pride in his masculine physical
and mental strength, and even weakness in her knees when she
thought of the pleasure he could whirl through her body.

Ashberry’s solicitor continued to research
Lord Whitney’s past, keeping his notes neatly organized on a corner
of his desk. The notes grew from a short pile to, with the help of
Riley, a fat packet, though Ashberry never requested a summary. The
marquess, with his mother-in-law settled safely in Ashberry House
and his wife safely at his side, saw no need to pursue the matter
until he returned to London.

Lady Whitney, in Charlotte and Edward’s
company, arrived at Ashberry Park in mid-August. The visit was
pleasant enough, lasting nearly a month. The marquess had initially
frowned at Edward, for allowing his sister to travel ‘in her
condition’, he said indignantly, but had retreated when Charlotte
made it clear to him that the air in London was more of a danger
than the carriage had been. Ellie discreetly assigned Charlotte and
Edward a suite in the guest wing and her mother a suite on the
opposite end of the house, and down a floor, from Ashberry and
Ellie’s rooms. Ashberry had cringed at Ellie’s innocent mention of
Edward and Charlotte’s need for privacy but had agreed with an
intent smile when Ellie stated quite vehemently that the lady of
the house also required privacy in the nighttime hours from the
ears of her mother and brother.

It was common knowledge in London that Lady
Whitney and her husband were not living together, but Ellie's
mother assured her daughter that she was still accepted socially,
and that her friends had been loyal to a fault. Some had even
defied their shocked husbands in order to maintain a connection to
the newly scandalous woman. Still, Charlotte and Edward informed
Ellie, Lady Whitney seemed more relaxed at Ashberry Park, spending
many afternoons getting better acquainted with the local genteel
widows and older wives, who gathered at the Chapman house on
regular afternoons.

Lady Whitney was overtly amazed by the close
intimacy of Ellie and the marquess, hardly crediting Ellie when the
girl told her that the marquess had refused to go to his estate in
Somerset without her. He had sent Sebastian from London instead,
and later Jefferson.

At least, Lady Whitney didn’t believe it
until she walked into the music room late one morning to find Ellie
deep in her husband’s arms, and not suffering from it in the
least.

Curious about other affectionate marriages,
Ellie carefully watched Edward and Charlotte together. Charlotte
was an attentive wife who was greatly relieved to be free of the
burdens of housekeeping—burdens, she told Ellie, that would one day
give her wrinkles and gray hair. She confided to Ellie as well that
she and Edward were greatly relieved to be alone in the guest
wing—for, she said, Edward had worried that Ashberry might
overreact if he heard ‘unusual noises in the house at night.’ On
another date, and in a more serious tone, Charlotte shared with
Ellie that Edward had told her, early one morning after he had held
her through an awful bout of morning sickness, about his role in
Ellie’s recovery. Ellie had gulped with nervousness, but Charlotte
had proved to be supportive and uplifting.

Edward, for his part, remained occupied with
his accounts and investing, which it appeared he could do anywhere.
He set himself in an unused room behind the library, where he
regularly received heavy packets of information that he read and
digested, producing volumes of legal correspondence with the
attentive assistance of Ellie's secretary. To Charlotte, who he
quite blatantly adored, he devoted all of his free time, escorting
her on short walks around the gardens and near to the walls of the
Castle, so that she could tell him of her heritage. Oftentimes, he
would carry her from the drawing room at night, when she would tire
and look to him pleadingly.

In mid-September, all five set out together
for London. Two wagons were sent ahead with footmen and Charlotte
and Lady Whitney’s maids, while Griffin, Wendy, Alexander,
Benjamin, and Edward’s valet and coachman went with the carriages.
The night before they left, Ashberry grumbled against his wife’s
breasts that all of his fantasies would be curtailed by the
presence of his sister, brother-in-law, and mother-in-law, but he
found quickly that both couples desired private time with their
spouses. The women would change seating arrangements at each stop,
and though he never felt managed, the marquess found himself either
beside his wife or alone with her on a regular basis. He accepted
the first with a sense of gratitude, but the second outcome
satisfied them both immensely.

With the longer days of summer upon them and
after rising before dawn to make an early start, it was not even
mid-day when the carriages arrived at Finnigan’s Folly. They all
shared a meal with the captain, who Lady Whitney declared an
oddity, and continued doggedly on—reaching Mrs. Tate’s an hour
after night fell. Ellie understood then that Ashberry had taken it
easy on their way north and she wondered if it was her or against
the weather that he had been guarding.

Late that night when he laid back in the
bed, enormously satisfied, he had confessed it was both. “I was
unsure of you then, you know,” he murmured. “Your physical stamina
for the carriage. It was winter too—not only were the roads more
muddy and difficult for the horses to move through, but the days
were shorter. And I couldn’t risk getting caught in a snowstorm and
having you frozen or taking ill.”

Ellie rolled over in the bed, wriggling her
body against his hip and side, until his arm curled around her and
his hand lightly smacked her bottom before settling on it and
squeezing. Content, she told him, “Mama told me that when we get to
London, she’s not coming back to Ashberry House with us. She is
going to stay with Charlotte and Edward, for Charlotte’s
confinement, you know. Mama said that Charlotte can’t possibly keep
house and have a baby and I guess Mama would know.”

“I’d have to agree with your mother,”
Ashberry murmured. “I’m not sure even Cousin Sarah found herself
equipped for the twins and Ashberry Park after Elizabeth died—and
she even had the help of three nurses and hadn’t been through
childbirth.” He paused. “It is my understanding that Eldenwood has
managed to persuade Sarah to come and stay at his house in London
for the duration of Caroline’s pregnancy—he wished to relieve her
of some of the tasks that Caroline will not delegate to the staff
and Sarah can not only assist her, but will also prevent Caroline
from overworking herself, or attempting to inspect the cellars or
attics, or other such nonsense.”

Ellie considered the question before she
asked it, before she sparked more painful memories for him, but
eventually decided she had to know. “Your stepmother, she had a
difficult labor, didn’t she?”

Ashberry paused. “Father sent Sebastian and
I away from Ashberry Park, to my mother's family, when Charlotte
and Caroline were born, so I haven’t been through any others,
Ellie. I can’t compare,” he finally admitted. “But I thought at the
time that it was the worst thing any God could have imagined to
punish women. For certain, the pain Elizabeth suffered should have
been enough to redeem every sin she and her children and their
children ever commit.”

“She died from the fever, after?” she asked
softly.

“Yes,” he said, subdued by the memory. He
turned to her, startling her with his directness. “You know I’ve
been relieved that you haven’t conceived.”

“I know.” The words were regretful, but
Ellie couldn’t pretend otherwise. “And I’m sorry you feel that way,
Stephen. I want a baby.” The last words were fervent, but she
didn’t look away. She met him his intense gaze staunchly. “Not
because they say I might not, Stephen. I want a baby because,
because ...“

“Because you were meant to be a mother, to
make things, particularly children, nurture and grow. I see it in
you, Ellie, I do, especially once I saw you at work at Ashberry
Park. When I see you hold one of the cottagers’ infants or help one
of the children find their lost kittens, I know motherhood is part
of your nature.” He took a deep breath. “This has been most
difficult for me; I’ve forced myself not to count the days, not to
think about whether you are or aren’t, not to think about what
might happen if you conceive.” His hands touched her cheek when she
began to speak as he finished ruefully, “The Lord knows I certainly
haven't done anything to prevent you from getting with child, and
we've spent enough time doing this," he gestured to their naked
bodies, "to make three of them."

"I wish it didn’t worry you so much,” she
said softly, touching his chin in return.

He shrugged the shoulder that was propped up
in the air. “It doesn’t, really. Mostly I think of it very late at
night, when you’ve fallen asleep against me. Except tonight you’re
not asleep.” Ashberry smiled at her, a gentle smile but one tinged
with a strange emotion and swallowed heavily. “The simple fact is,
Ellie, that I am unable to resist touching you, holding you, having
you. All you do is look at me with those gorgeous emerald eyes, and
I’m lost. If we make a babe together and I lose you, the
responsibility is mine alone.”

Ellie’s eyes fired, and her chin set in a
way that was unmistakable. “I have some part in this too, you
know,” she insisted, her hand sliding between them and down until
her fingers tangled in the hair around his manhood. “And don’t
think I wouldn’t try to seduce you myself if you suddenly began
treating me like a piece of fine porcelain.” Her fingers stroked
the warm skin between his thighs. When he tensed, she whispered,
“If we do create a babe together, Stephen?” she asked. “What will
you do?”

Roughly, he pulled her beneath him, burying
his face against her hair. “I don’t know, Ellie,” he finally
whispered. “Pray, mostly. Spend all the time with you I possibly
can. I understand intellectually that not all women die from having
children. It’s just that ... “

He stopped, his voice dying away. Against
him, pressed so possessively in his arms, Ellie’s reply was quiet.
“It’s just that you lost both your mother and stepmother in
childbirth.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Losing you, losing you
... I don’t know if I could survive it, Ellie. Until I met you, I
blamed my father for both their deaths. If he had been able to
control himself, I told myself, neither one would have died. I
thought it was only righteous that he should die a slow agonizing
death from alcohol, though of course, he didn’t last that
long.”

“And now,” Ellie murmured, her voice warm
against his ear, “You are discovering that it isn’t about
self-control at all.”

Ashberry’s hands slid down her back, cupping
her bottom and rubbing his lower organs against the soft hairs of
her pudendum. “No, it’s mostly about my uncontrollable adoration
for you. It’s about being together, cherishing each other,
satiating all of our senses, burying myself so deeply inside you
that I do not exist outside of you, indulging myself with your
touch and taste and smell and sound, holding you close when you
disintegrate in my arms.”

“You know,” Ellie sighed, “After we pleasure
each other, I don’t dream. Not dreams I remember.” Her voice
softened to a bare whisper, “I hardly can remember his hands on me
now. You’ve replaced all my memories of it with your own hands,
your own voice, your own face and body.”

Ashberry’s throat closed at her words. “I
love you, Ella Amelie Trinity,” he groaned, and neither spoke again
that night. At least not in words. Still, Ellie didn’t forget what
he said, this time a reaffirmation of his earlier announcement.
Inside her heart, she believed him, accepted his words, clung to
them even. Ashberry had spent months giving to her, adoring her,
convincing her with his selfless interest in her happiness and
pleasure. But she still wondered, doubted, her own feelings and so
she kept silent.

At Harlan Chase the next night, Mrs. Arden
was in her glory. The house was spotless and two of the chambers
were occupied in addition to the marquess’ own bed. She fawned
maternally over Charlotte, who had increased visibly during their
month at Ashberry Park and allowed the housekeeper to be bustle her
away to rest during the several hours before dinner. The meal,
Ashberry told Ellie later, was probably the most elegant one that
had ever been served at the house.