For Elise (25 page)

A feeling of dread crept through Elise. Her breaths grew harder to take. Her head throbbed once more.

“They are brown instead of blue,” Miles acknowledged. “How, pray tell, is that significant?”

“
Your
eyes are brown, Miles. Very nearly the exact shade of Anne’s.” Beth sighed. “I, of course, realize the speculation is absurd, but the staff here does not know either of you as I do. They have conjectured that Anne was not, indeed, born early but was, in fact, conceived prior to Elise’s marriage. Prior to her leaving Epsworth. Prior to her leaving
you
.” Beth gave Miles a pointed look. “Some have speculated that you, Miles Linwood, Marquess of Grenton, are Anne’s true father and not Mr. Jim Jones. If you and Elise continue with your affections as you have, these rumors will simply grow more credible in the eyes of those who hear them.”

They were labeling Miles a cad? A rake, even? And she herself was seen as a scarlet woman. Or, at best, a deceived and abandoned schoolroom girl. And what stigma was this attaching to Anne? Her diminished hearing created enough of a barrier between her and the rest of the world without whispers of illegitimacy adding to it.

“This is ludicrous,” Miles declared. “To think I would . . . would—”

“I know, Miles,” Beth assured him. “And, as I said, Mrs. Ash has done what she can to counter the damage. But if you two don’t exercise a bit of circumspection, the only solution left to you will be marrying each other. I do not want either of you forced into a marriage of convenience. You deserve to choose the relationships you have and keep.”

“I’m sorry, Miles.” Dread swept over Elise at the enormity of the implications. Her presence in his home was causing him difficulties she’d not anticipated, and she felt powerless to stop it. “I am so sorry they are saying this about you. It is so terribly unfair. I’ll think of a way to make it right.”

Elise had, for all intents
and purposes, moved in with Mama Jones. For the past three days, she’d broken her fast in her room, then, after Anne had finished her morning lessons with Mrs. Ash, walked with her daughter to Mama Jones’s cottage, not returning until after the dinner hour.

Miles understood. Beth’s warnings had unnerved him as well. Neither he nor Elise needed scandal or rumors attached to their names. He certainly did not wish for speculation to taint Anne. After hearing the love in Elise’s voice when she spoke of her late husband, Miles couldn’t condemn her to a marriage that was any less loving. He cared about her, loved her even, but as a friend, a brother, a lifelong companion.

“It is, perhaps, best to put a little distance between you,” Langley said from atop his mount. They’d ridden out that morning and had spied Elise making her daily pilgrimage. “I do not think it would be wise for her to become too dependent on you.”

“You think I would fail her?”

“On the contrary.” Langley kept his horse to an easy canter. “Watching you since her return, I think you would go to the ends of the earth for her.”

“I would.”

“And I think she is beginning to trust that you will. What happens to your Elise when it is time for her to be on her own once more?”

“On her own?” Was she leaving? Had Langley heard something to that effect?

“She cannot live here indefinitely, Grenton. For one thing, Beth and I really do need to return to Lancashire, and without our chaperonage, her presence here would be ruinous for you both.”

“But where would she go?” Miles’s eyes blindly surveyed the land around them. Elise had no one. She had no home. Thanks to a few well-made investments, she had an income, but it was not much.

“I would guess she will return to living with her mother-in-law,” Langley said. “She is probably beginning that transition already.”

Miles thought of the poverty in which he’d found Elise. She’d begged scraps from a heartless shopkeeper. She could not go back to that. He could not allow it.

She would be living with Mama Jones on Tafford land. He could see that she was taken care of, that she never went hungry. She would have new dresses and slippers and picture books for Anne.

But the thought wasn’t comforting. His misgivings, in fact, only increased. The Lord of the Manor bringing offerings to a tenant cottage would only give rise to more rumors. She would be seen as a kept woman. But to have her so close and be unable to help her, unable to see her daily as he’d become accustomed to—frequent visits would create the same problems as gifts—would be unbearable.

“Beth has suggested that Elise come to Lancashire with us,” Langley said, recalling Miles to the present. “My mother, as you know, has remarried, so the dower house at Gilford is vacant. Elise and Anne, along with Mrs. Jones, could live there with no difficulties for as long as they wish. And, of course, there would be no hint of scandal or impropriety connected with that arrangement.”

“But Lancashire is so far away,” Miles objected immediately.

“Part of the benefit, Grenton.”

“I could visit.” He was really only thinking out loud, trying to reconcile himself to being so far from Elise.

“It would be best if you didn’t. Not often anyway. And, then, only to the main house.”

“I will not travel all that way and not see Elise. It would be preposterous.”

“Seeing your sister would not be reward enough for rough roads and nights at inns with questionable reputations?” Why did Langley seem like he was laughing?

“You might think me an unnatural brother for saying so, but no, it would not be,” Miles replied curtly. “Elise is a sister too. Except, she’s
more
than that. I’m not certain I can explain it beyond her being a very close friend. We have shared our entire lives, Langley. We were never without one another, and losing her four years ago was like losing part of myself. In a very real way, she is my other half. The one person on this earth I could not imagine living my life without. I—”

“Miles.” Langley using his Christian name was enough to stop his unplanned confession in an instant. “What you have described is not a
friend.
That is the way a man thinks of his wife.”

Miles pulled his mount to a stop, too shocked to do anything but stare.

“Beth and I will be here only another week,” Langley said. “We will extend the invitation for Elise to return to Gilford with us. I think you had best reconcile yourself to her departure before that time. If she believes leaving will cause you pain, she’s likely to stay. But doing so would be a terrible mistake.”

“I don’t want her to leave,” Miles quietly confessed.

“I know,” Langley said. “But as her ‘very close friend,’ you need to not hinder her attempts to do what’s best for herself and her daughter. You need to let her go.”

* * *

Miles tossed his cravat onto his bed, his mind in turmoil.
That is the way a man thinks of his wife.
But it was Elise he’d been speaking of. Elise, who had run wild with him all over Epsworth. Elise, who had pushed him out of a tree, whose nursery he’d sneaked into more times than he could recall, the two of them sleeping in her bedchamber when they were very small children.

“Just where I expected to find him.” His father’s words rushed over him in a wave so strong Miles could actually see in his mind his father standing in the doorway of Elise’s bedchamber in the Furlong House nursery.

In his memory, Miles had awoken only a moment earlier. He, at only nine, had cut across the meadow the night before to see Elise. She hadn’t come by in the four days since Miles had broken his wrist. He’d been convinced she was still crying over pushing him from their tree. So he’d shown her that his wrist was healing well, though the inches-thick bandage and wood splint hadn’t reassured her.

He’d sneaked into her bedchamber dozens of times before, and as always, they’d fallen asleep there, that time in the middle of reading a book. Miles had pretended to still be asleep when he’d heard his father’s voice. His mind had whirled frantically, searching for an excuse that would appease his father.

But Father hadn’t been angry. He’d seemed almost amused.

“And you’ll allow him to sneak back home, as always?” Mr. Furlong chuckled in response, both men keeping their voices low.

“Of course. No harm done. I daresay Elise has been beside herself worrying over his injury.”

“None of us could convince her Miles wasn’t on his deathbed,” Mr. Furlong answered. “But she was too afraid he was angry with her to go see for herself.”

“What an odd pair they are,” Father said. “So perfectly matched.”

“So long as we are not finding this situation ten years from now,” Mr. Furlong said.

“Miles leaves for Eton this year,” Father told him. “Their connection will change. They will both grow up.”

“I am already dreading the day I find out my little girl has her first beau. Or worse yet, her first kiss.”

Looking back, Miles realized Mr. Furlong had sounded very much like a father who felt his child was growing up too quickly, though Elise had only been five years old at the time.

“You realize, of course,” Father had answered, “Miles will likely be both.”

“I know.” Mr. Furlong had answered with something of a sigh. “It is a very good thing I like the boy.”

Miles stopped unbuttoning his waistcoat, frozen by the impact of that memory. Their fathers had expected a romantic relationship to develop between Elise and himself? And all based on their childhood antics?

They had predicted Miles would be Elise’s first beau.
That
, as far as Miles knew, had been Jim Jones. And her first kiss as well. His feelings on that subject were far too jumbled to make the slightest sense of them.

Miles let out a frustrated breath and finished removing his waistcoat. He supposed he ought to have allowed his valet to help, but four years without a personal servant had made doing things for himself a habit. His waistcoat joined the discarded cravat.

He crossed to the empty fireplace—the evening was warm enough to forgo even a low-burning fire—and leaned his arm against the high mantelpiece.

How he wished their troubles had an easy solution. A great many gentlemen married ladies to solve financial woes or to hastily patch up a compromised reputation. And a great many people would likely argue that Miles was insufferably bacon-brained not to simply disregard Elise’s feelings on the matter and rob her of the chance to someday marry the gentleman of her heart and her choice. No. There was nothing at all easy about their situation.

Would Elise take Beth and Langley up on their offer of the dower house at Gilford? Doing so might be safer, both in terms of her reputation and the threat that hung over her head. But then again, the murderer might simply follow her there. Then who would protect her?

If Elise chose to go, Miles would need to tell Langley about the letters. He would have to impress upon his brother-in-law the importance of looking out for Elise, of protecting her. He’d have to tell him that Anne was in need of dolls and books and dresses and that Elise, though she would never ask, was in need of so much herself.

Langley was generous and the best of men, but he didn’t understand Elise the way Miles did. He wouldn’t know how to offer her what she needed without hurting her pride. He wouldn’t know that beneath her poise of solemn reserve was a mountain of emotions kept hidden from the world. He certainly wouldn’t be able to recognize when she needed a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold.

It simply wouldn’t be the same. She would be so far away again. He’d spent four years separated from her. How many more would he have to endure?

He thought of the look of disapproving accusation Elise had received from the innkeeper in Stanton and the fleeting look of humiliation he’d seen in Elise’s eyes when Beth had warned them of similar conjectures among the staff. Distance would solve that difficulty. Could he give her that? Could he deprive himself of his dearest friend in order to save her from the whispers and speculation, in order to ensure she had every opportunity for happiness? He could and would. For Elise, he would do anything.

Long after he’d extinguished his candle, Miles lay awake on his bed, staring up into the darkness. Heavens, he was going to miss her. His entire house would be empty with Beth and Langley’s departure. He alone would be left to walk the abandoned corridors and sit in the deafening silence.

I have to do what is right for Elise. I cannot disappoint her again.

But letting her go would hurt.

His bedchamber door creaked open a bit. At the sound of little footsteps, Miles sat up on his bed. Anne hurried up to the bedside.

“Sweetheart.” He reached down and lifted her up onto the blankets. “What are you doing in here, love? You should be asleep.”

He could only just make out her face in the moonlight spilling in through his windows. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pulled tight. She clutched his arm in her tiny hands.

“What happened?” He spoke loudly and slowly, knowing she probably couldn’t see his mouth clearly enough to help her make sense of his words.

Anne threw herself against him, holding him almost desperately. A nightmare, perhaps?

“Were you scared?” he asked.

She clutched him with such strength, as if terrified to let go.

Poor thing. “I’ll take you back to your room, dear.” He began slipping to the edge of the bed.

She only clung tighter, shaking her head firmly. He could remember being small and frightened of dreams. It wouldn’t hurt anything to let her remain until she fell asleep again.

He settled in once more and sat with her in his arms. He hadn’t realized Anne even knew where his bedroom was. She’d come quite a distance for one so small. She had her mother’s tenacity.

Memory after memory accompanied that thought. Elise had been quite a force to be reckoned with, even as a little girl. When she set her mind to something, nothing stopped her.

Miles held tighter to his precious armful. She was so young. If months or years passed before he saw her again, would she even remember him? How quickly she’d claimed her very own place in his heart. Losing her would leave a void.

His tumultuous thoughts led to a restless sleep. People he’d known slipped in and out of his dreams: His father watching over them. The child Elise had been changing to Anne. Mr. Furlong and Mr. Cane. Miles’s mother and Elise’s. Associates he’d had in the West Indies. Beth. Langley. So many people.

“Miles!”

He jolted awake at the sound of Elise’s panicked voice. She was rushing toward him from his open door.

“I can’t find Anne!” She seemed to spot her daughter in the next moment, asleep on Miles’s chest. “Oh, merciful heavens.”

Elise dropped to her knees beside his bed, a panicked desperation still heavy in her posture. Whatever had brought her rushing in, it was not as simple as a mother who was unsure about which room her daughter had wandered to.

“What’s happened, Elise?” He sat up, careful not to wake Anne.

“I awoke and”—she took a shaky breath—“this was on my pillow.”