Chapter Twenty-Two
“Absolutely not! Isimply do not belong there.”
Ellena bounced Christopher on her knee with some agitation. He gurgled and flexed his small fists open into gleeful stars. “Hossie!” he cried, something he had taken to doing whenever he rode upon his mother’s knees. It was no surprise that this had been his first word since he loved to visit the stables at Munro House and pat the muscled backs of the more patient steeds when his parents held him up to them.
Ellena’s frown disappeared at once, replaced by a maternal smile and cooing encouragement. “Yes. Horsie. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.” She added a fair attempt at a neigh and pulled back on invisible reins. “Whoa there, horsie.”
“Hossie!” cried the delighted little boy again, and his mother obliged immediately by resuming the energetic bounce. The chair creaked beneath the ungainly activity, but Ellena did not seem to mind. Jillian knew her friend was determined to be a different sort of parent than her own had been.
“Fine,” said Jilly. “Don’t come to the roof-wetting. I’ll take Wallace. And I’ll add a footman for good measure. You know, to fend off all the men who would tarnish my reputation.” She waited for Ellena to smile at her little joke. But no smile was forthcoming. “Thomas is going,” she added. “He will do nicely. I’m sure they would both love a night of capering with the locals.”
“You really shouldn’t be going, either,” warned Ellena. “You are no longer one of them, Jilly.”
Jillian folded her arms across her chest. “Am I to throw away a lifetime of friendships because I married Lewis?”
“No, but these friends of yours cannot help a lifetime of trained thought, either. You are now one of the mistresses in their eyes. Someone to treat with solemn respect. Just because you haven’t changed does not mean you are the same, as far as they are concerned.”
“But Thomas was the one who suggested I join them! And Mr. Boyd has promised me the first dance.Theydon’t seem to share your dull concerns.”
Ellena pursed her lips. The bouncing stopped and little Christopher turned and looked expectantly at his mother. “Jilly, you know I love you…”
“Oh, dear.” Jilly rolled her eyes. “This sounds like the beginning of a lecture.”
“I’m sorry to say, but we do need to have a serious talk.”
“All right. Get it over with. Christopher is getting bored and so am I.”
Ellena drew her son up into her arms and stood quickly. She walked to the door and, pulling it open, gestured to the footman outside. “Take him to his nurse, please. I will fetch him again in a little while.”
Empty-handed, Ellena returned to her chair. She clasped her palms together, interlacing her fingers. “Jilly,” she began. “I can never thank you enough for offering me your wonderful, wild heart when I needed relief from the constraints of my childhood. The ease with which you moved through the world showed me it was possible to breathe more deeply, even when the pressure of so much expectation sat as a weight upon my chest. Honestly, if not for you, I would have been a shadow of myself. Rather likemy mother…” She paused to steady herself. “You must therefore understand that I would never want to change you.”
“However…” said Jilly, a wry smile flitting across her mouth.
“Yes, well…” Ellena stumbled in her little speech. “It wouldn’t be a serious talk if there weren’t a ‘however.’”
“Out with it, then.”
“I’m trying!” Ellena retorted. “Being the voice of reason is not a role I relish, you know.”
Jillian waited in silence. Anything she said now would only make it harder for her friend. The sooner they had their talk, the sooner she could get back to organizing the necessities that made it possible for her to attend the country dance. For go she would.
“I understand Mr. Boyd is an old friend…”
The mention of the man caught Jillian off-guard. What did he have to do with anything?
“One of many friends here in Ermenbrough,” she replied.
“And yet he is the one with whom you spend most of your time.”
A twinge of guilt pinched Jilly’s heart. Nothing untoward had happened. But, yes, she had savored his company. It was safe, for she would never betray Lewis, and Simon Boyd was far too noble to consider such a thing. Still, time with him had been a pleasure. A revisiting of her earlier life with its freedoms and ease. A life she did not currently enjoy with Lewis. Even the promised dance with him had nothing to do with some sort of private affection. Mr. Boyd was a means to an end. A gateway to an evening of laughter and fun.
Jilly shrugged. “Everyone has employment that occupies them by day. I have been banned from the kitchen in both your home at Munro House and at Oakwoods, so I have obediently refrained from venturing into the one at Trenton Grange. But Mr. Boyd allows me—and, more recently, Wallace—to tag alongwith him on his rounds. I’m gaining valuable insights into the running of your neighbor’s estate, something I can share with Lewis. I have not been an absent friend, have I? My morning circuit with Mr. Boyd has not prevented me from spending time with you in the afternoon.”
“I do not feel neglected, Jilly. But you must understand that your regular visits with an unmarried gentleman, even when the circumstances are clearly innocent, are not… How shall I put this?”
“Appropriate? Respectable? Sanctioned by society? Go on, take your pick. Add your voice to everyone else’s.” Jilly’s lips grew tight. “I had hoped that Ermenbrough would be the one place I could be myself. I have taken precautions that my actions might be deemed acceptable, but I seem doomed to failure.”
Ellena leaned toward her friend, a hand on her knee. “I do see you trying, Jilly dearest. You have shown commendable restraint in avoiding the kitchen and not running barefoot through my father’s garden. I have seen you resist the urge to chat with the servants when they are going about their tasks.” She leaned back, signaling the end to her encouragement. “But the regularity of your visits with Mr. Boyd has not shown equal discernment. As for tonight’s roof-wetting of the barn, how did it come about that he should promise you the first dance? Do you not see that such conversation straddles the boundary of propriety?”
