Page 26 of His Bluestocking Bride

As the carriage turned onto the lane to her father’s house, Marcus leaned far enough forward to catch her eye, pulling her attention to him. She looked up into his light brown eyes, surprised by the gentle expression in them. His lips turned upward but his smile felt sincerer and less teasing.

“I must admit, I was nervous this morning. I wondered for a time if you might not come.”

Ellen’s lips parted in surprise and she knew not what to say.

“You certainly could find a better husband than me, you know,” he added, tilting his head to one side as he studied her. “Though I doubt I could find a prettier bride willing to put up with me.”

His attempt to set her at ease, his silly compliment, self-effacing as it was, gave her pause.

“Marcus, I promised I would marry you. I always keep my promises,” she said, thinking on that twinkling look in his eye before.

“It’s over, at any rate. Now we enjoy a meal and go on our way, home to Orchard Hill.” He spoke the name of his estate with relish. Ellen smiled in return, a small hope rekindled in her heart.

Chapter Twelve

The journey to Orchard Hill gave Ellen time to reflect on the matters of her heart. They stayed at an inn overnight, in separate rooms joined by a small sitting area. Ellen felt no awkwardness over this, having known the plan ahead of time. Knowing that her husband did not, in fact, think of her in any way other than a friend, also gave her no expectations of consummating their marriage any time soon. Still, it was hard to sleep in a strange bed.

Thoughts of her wedding vows, and Marcus’s, kept her wondering if this had been the right thing to do. He did not love her. He professed his intention to never give his heart to another after Lady Selene’s ill treatment.

Would Ellen’s love be enough to sustain their marriage? Enough for her happiness?

The following morning dawned without any answers.

They rode in relative comfort and enjoyed easy conversations. He told her about the tenants he met, the state of their homes, and the apple orchard from which Orchard Hill took its name. She asked question after question, enjoying his eagerness on the subject.

Just shy of three o’clock in the afternoon, he leaned toward the window and gestured for her to look. She had to lean across him to do so, but Marcus helped to hold her still amid the bumps of the carriage, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

It was the most he had touched her since she accepted his betrothal, excepting when politeness required he take her arm.

She tried to ignore the way his proximity made her feel. As a married woman, she could not let herself be undone by polite touches such as these.

Looking through the window, she saw a long lane, lined with sleeping apple trees. At the end of the lane, settled on a grassy knoll, was a red brick house. It stood three stories tall, with wide windows and a beautiful four-column porch, larger and grander than Ellen expected.

She held her breath when Marcus helped her from the carriage, directing her eyes upward to the dark slats of the roof and deep green shutters at every window. The driveway was covered in small white stones and the steps leading up to the house were made of brick.

Standing before the house, in a short line of starched aprons and somber colored suit coats, was the household staff. Butler, two footmen, gardener, and under gardener stood on one side. Then there was the housekeeper, two maids, the cook, the cook’s assistant, and one familiar face among them, standing barely behind the housekeeper.

Ellen felt her heart lift at the sight of Sarah, the maid from Marianne’s home, smiling shyly at her.

Marcus leaned closer to her. “I thought you would be pleased. She was eager to come and be of service to you.”

Ellen could not speak her thanks but cast him what she hoped was a grateful smile. He led her to the housekeeper.

“Mrs. Calvert, I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Burk, a fine housekeeper if ever there was one.”

It was the first time she heard her new name. At last she’d no longer be the last Miss Bringhurst. She was forever linked to Marcus, as his wife. She had little time to dwell on the pleasant thought.

Mrs. Burk dipped a respectful curtsy. She had graying hair pulled back into a soft bun and wore a deep blue gown suitable to an upper-level servant. There were lines around her eyes and when she smiled Ellen could see the beginnings of wrinkles at her mouth.

“It is an honor to meet you, ma’am,” she said in a sweetly maternal voice.

Ellen’s confidence lifted. This woman, she hoped, would be a good partner in managing the household.

“Thank you, Mrs. Burk. I look forward to working with you. Will you please introduce the rest of the staff?”

Each person respectfully welcomed Ellen to her new home, and she did her best to remember their names and faces.

“After you are settled, we will send refreshment to your rooms,” Mrs. Burk informed Ellen after the final maid curtsied. “If that is satisfactory.”