In response, she slammed the door, which she found very satisfying.
She ran out into the woods, sat down on a small bench in the pavilion and wept.
Really, what had she expected? That he would change his mind about this farce and realise that he'd fallen passionately in love with her? Ellen took out a handkerchief and blew into it. That would never happen. She'd agreed to this marriage on the understanding that it would remain a pretence.
But things had changed between them. She could continue to ignore it, as he was doing. Play along, stick to their agreement. Or? She stared into the forest as a new thought occurred to her. Or ... she could fight for it. See if she could make something of it. Something real.
Deep down, she felt that was what she wanted.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Instead of going on her early morning walk, Ellen had spent the last few hours poring over the bookshelves in the library, thinking about the incident with Edmund. It wasn't unusual to meet adults who couldn't read, but it was unusual for a member of the upper class to be completely illiterate, for they were generally able to acquire the best education the country could provide.
Ellen wasn't sure that the word 'illiterate' was even appropriate for Edmund; perhaps he merely had a weakness in reading and writing, as many of her pupils did. Occasionally, one of them would mix up letters. One girl she'd taught last term had complained that the letters danced off the page, changing position as she read. She had difficulty associating the letters with the sounds they made. Such pupils, in Ellen's experience, required a great deal of patience and a different approach to teaching. They did not thrive on a rigorous curriculum with twenty or more pupils in the same group, but did better when taken aside and taught individually.
At Miss Hilversham's Seminary for Young Ladies, it had been Ellen's responsibility to work with such pupils. It was hard, bone-breaking work, but also very rewarding. She had a gift for adding a playful element that made lessons enjoyable. More than once, she would form a close bond with the pupil who would slowly, haltingly, learn to read. It was Ellen's special quest, for she believed everyone was capable of reading. No exception.
And here was Edmund, the Pink of theton, who could not.
Ellen strongly suspected that, after several failures, he'd simply adopted the attitude "I can't read, so I won't even try". That would explain why he had no library; not a single book in his townhouse.
But what puzzled her was his behaviour towards her. She'd discovered his closely guarded secret, and perhaps he now considered her a threat. Her hair had stood on end when he'd talked about the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of teachers. Poor little boy.
Then there was the issue with his family, the estrangement from his brother and his mother. She'd found his mother, the Dowager Lady Tewkbury sympathetic, and Ellen would have loved to get to know his family better. Edmund, however, had refused, and there was nothing she could do about it.
If only she could help! But he wouldn't let her. What could she do?
The previous day, Edmund had ignored her all evening. She'd gone to bed at the usual time, but he hadn't come. She'd got up an hour earlier than she should have, but she'd fallen asleep on the couch in the library. Her back ached from the uncomfortable position, and she shivered because the fire in the fireplace had gone out.
She pulled her shawl around her shoulders as she stepped out into the hall, where Louisa and her husband were greeting a newly arrived guest, a slim, medium-sized gentleman with ash-blond hair. He had a classic profile with an elegant nose and a well-set mouth.
"What a pleasure to have you here, Mr Mattick, and just in time, for the gentlemen have not yet left for their morning shooting. I promise the next few days will be full of entertainment, and the ladies here will be so pleased to have another eligible bachelor amongst them!" Louisa gushed over him.
"I'm delighted to be here, Lady Dobberham. I wouldn't have missed your party for the world." He lifted her hand and kissed it elegantly.
Ellen grabbed the latch of the door and held on to it as if her life depended on it. She felt the blood drain from her face.
It couldn't be. What was he doing here?
A figure from another life. Another time.
Stunned, she let go of the latch, and it snapped with a loud noise.
The heads turned towards her.
Louisa smiled and beckoned her to come forward. "Ah. And this is the first of our ladies here. Lady Ellen Tewkbury. May I present Mr Robert Mattick?"
The same blue eyes, the same round cheeks, and golden curls like an overgrown cupid.
He stared. "It can't be. Ellen!"
"Robert." Ellen drew her tongue across her dry lower lip.
Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad.
Louisa raised a delicate eyebrow at their use of each other's given names. "You seem to have already made each other's acquaintance?"
Robert broke into a smile, walked over to Ellen, and took her hands in his. "It really is you."
