Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mariah Beale might have been the first woman of Ellie’s age and station that she had met in several years, but she was also proving to be just as impish and delightful as any of the other women Ellie had come to know since arriving at Fenmore.
That proved even more true when she suggested that Ellie come with her to explore the gardens and take advantage of the fair afternoon.
It was a simple enough invitation, and something that Ellie was eager and excited for.
If the interior of the house was so exquisitely arrayed that it made her feel at home, how much more delightful would the exterior aspects be?
Ellie had not had cause to think up her dream home and situation as an adult, but now she was wondering if Carraway might be it.
That felt disloyal to Fenmore, but she could not do much about that now.
Mariah, who had insisted on Ellie calling her such, took her out to the gardens via the back terrace, and Ellie had paused there to stare in awe at the beauty she was seeing.
Stone paths wandered through hedges that bloomed with flowers in places, but held firm walls of green in others.
Perfectly manicured bushes dotted the present landscape, some atop balustrades of stone and some freestanding.
Expanses of wildflowers sat gloriously cultivated in parts, other places bearing blooms she had only ever seen in hot houses.
A large fountain gurgled gently in the center, a statue of a Grecian goddess standing atop the highest tier.
Wisteria bunches dotted gazebos in three places, and there were unlit torches throughout the entire space, perfectly situated for evening or midnight walks through the fragrant beauties.
“How do you ever stay indoors?” Ellie asked Mariah as they started down the steps.
“I know.” Mariah laughed. “Isn’t it glorious?
I cannot take much credit for it. The previous lady of the house, the wife of my husband’s distant cousin, was a devotee of nature, and all of this work was her vision.
All I did was arrange a place for wildflowers, since they have always been a favorite of mine.
I don’t mind the cultivation, to be sure, but there is something about the understated beauty that touches my heart. ”
Ellie found herself nodding and inhaling deeply as they began the walk along the paths. “It is so peaceful. From the moment you enter, you feel all your burdens slide from your shoulders and vanish.”
Mariah giggled a little. “They have not vanished, Ellie. They are waiting there on the terrace and will come back upon us once we return to the house. Believe me, I know.”
“Then I will remain out here as long as possible!” Ellie cried, flinging her arms out and laughing along with her new friend.
They chatted for a few more moments about the details of the garden, though it was clear that Mariah was not as fascinated by the agricultural details of these plants as Ellie was.
And that did not bother her, either. There was something to be said for seeing something beautiful, feeling its petals, inhaling its scent, without analyzing other aspects of it.
Pure enjoyment was highly underrated in nature.
Sometimes, in fact, Ellie wished she knew less so there was more wonder and mystery to these creations.
But only sometimes.
Mariah led them to a small white bench under a willow tree at one edge of the garden. “Will you sit?”
Ellie nodded, doing so and tilting her head back as though to enjoy the sun, which was barely reaching them through the branches and leaves.
That did not matter. It still felt lovely, and she was going to embrace it.
“Tell me your story, Ellie Williams,” Mariah said softly from beside her. “And don’t fret—I do not have my relation’s tendency to repeat gossip, nor to collect it.”
Ellie smiled at the assurance and felt oddly soothed by it. She knew most people were not like Mrs. Wickerton, goodhearted though she was, but enough people dabbled in the art of gossip to make her wary of sharing her tale.
But Mariah Beale could become a good friend, and Ellie could certainly be honest without being scandalous.
So she told her enough of her story for truth to be evident, but not enough for scandal to be suspected.
Yes, there would always be the scandalous detail of her living at Fenmore with two unmarried men at present, but she took care to avoid focusing on that aspect.
After all, no one else needed to know that there was no dower house and no other residence on the estate.
She also did not tell Mariah the other scandalous detail—her identity as E.
Williams, estate manager. There was no need to shock the woman in the privacy of her own garden, and the admission of her interest and education with the agricultural details of the estate would be more than enough to set her apart.
Mariah sat quietly and listened to the entire tale, saying nothing and keeping her opinions, whatever they were, to herself.
No gasps of surprise, no sounds of sympathy, no hums of discontent.
In fact, were it not for the carefully held posture beside her, the slight turn of her head in her direction, Ellie would not have thought Mariah was listening at all.
But she was. She let the silence hold, let Ellie take all of the space for her story, let every point she wished to share be heard without the audience of her own sounds. It was the most serene experience she had ever had talking about her past. And her present.
She left out any discussion of the future. Speculation would not help her here, and she did not need anyone to give her false hope, especially someone who had not known her long enough to speak with any sort of authority.
When she finished, Ellie kept her hands folded in her lap, avoiding the impulse to examine her nails while she waited.
Patience had never been one of her strongest virtues.
“Well,” Mariah said after a long moment, her tone light and amused, “I am very tempted to have my husband and his estate manager take you out to the fields before the men just to give you an advantage in the challenge.”
Ellie’s eyes widened as her teeth clenched in a desperate attempt to not react prematurely.
But Mariah caught her eye, grinning playfully. “Mrs. Wickerton did not give me many details, but I am aware of the challenge and that it is between Lord Bickham and yourself. I trust you wouldn’t want to be left behind at the house with me when that outing takes place.”
“As delightful as I find your company, Mariah,” Ellie said with a laugh, “I think I would be crawling the walls knowing they were out there and I would have to rely on a secondhand witness.”
Mariah nodded in thought, then looked towards the hedges. “Does Fenmore have a hedge maze?”
That was a strange twist of topics.
Ellie frowned slightly. “No, and I don’t think they’ve had one in the past.”
“You should examine ours,” Mariah suggested, gesturing towards them. “Determine if that might be something you would be interested in establishing at Fenmore.”
Ellie cocked her head a little. “You speak as if I will win this challenge and be asked to remain at Fenmore in some sort of position of decision-making authority.”
“Will you not?” she asked in return, her tone brooking no argument.
That shut Ellie up with surprising alacrity.
Certainly, she wanted to win the challenge and be asked to stay, but she could not hope for that. Hope led to disappointment and pain. She had to do her best and accept the outcomes, whatever they were. Keeping her expectations low was enough to keep her life on a stable plane.
That was all she’d allow.
“I haven’t been able to think about something that has no function in years,” Ellie whispered, staring at the hedges. “No aesthetics, only profit. Survival, no beauty.”
“And now,” Mariah told her, patting her knee, “you can look towards the horizon instead of just at the step in front of you.” She nudged her head towards the maze.
“Go. Look. Breathe. Analyze with your crop-loving mind, if you must. However you find enjoyment, do so. We can discuss connections and beneficial actions over supper.” She rose and turned for the house, leaving Ellie alone with her thoughts.
After only a few moments of sitting quietly, she pushed to her feet and started for the hedge maze, not intending to go far or to attempt to find the center or anything entertaining like that. She was just going to wander and ponder, let her thoughts go where they would.
The walls of the hedges were high and the hedges themselves thick and lush.
So rich in color and so healthy in all other respects.
She walked along them as she entered the maze, her fingers trailing along the dense leaves and branches.
The sun was warm upon her hair; her bonnet never made it outdoors with her, and that blessed heat draped her in a blanket of soothing peace.
The farther she went into the maze, the quieter all sounds became. The rustling from the breeze was softer, the birdsong was fainter, the trickle of the fountain faded to nothing . . .
Leaving her only with her thoughts, and in this moment, she wanted to allow herself to imagine life after Fenmore.
Whatever that looked like.
Her heart clenched painfully, pinching her breath and her thoughts as a cold chill trickled down her spine. A new estate. A new county. A new set of neighbors. New rules. New lands. New connections.
New husband options.
She shuddered at that idea, a wave of nausea pressing up against her throat.
Perhaps no husband thoughts for a while.
She could barely think of her own life, and while she needed to be connected to a man in order to do what she wanted elsewhere, she had to find some route more sustainable than relying on the life of someone else to extend long enough for her goals to come to fruition.
Starting over. It sounded simple in concept, but the reality . . . What she had been through to get to this point . . .
She had given everything to Fenmore. Everything. And now she’d have to . . . She’d need to . . .
Tears began to flood her eyes. She could not imagine life after Fenmore. She couldn’t.
She wanted to stay. She wanted to see what became of her efforts. She wanted to see what West did with the place. She wanted . . .
Home. She wanted home, and Fenmore, such as it was, had become home.
Ellie bit down on her lip hard to keep from crying out as she covered her mouth with one hand and turned to the hedge, her tears dissolving into sobs that shook her frame.
Only the sound of footsteps interrupted her private grief, and she sniffled harshly to attempt to force back the tears. She would never be able to hide the swelling of her eyes and the redness of her face, though.
Never.
“Elena?”
Her eyes squeezed shut even more, eking out additional tears, as West’s voice reached her ears.
Why him? Why now? Why here?
His hand found the small of her back, and a sob shuddered out of her with a whimper. He began running his hand up and down her back slowly, soothingly, and gently turned her towards him.
“Elena,” he murmured, pulling her hand away from her mouth. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Sweetheart? Oh, his tenderness was going to make all of this even worse, was going to wring even more emotion from her, if not more tears. He had seen her be strong and defiant, but never this. She had spent years avoiding this with anyone.
And she had never wanted to avoid this sort of display with anyone more than with West.
“I . . .” She choked on the words, unable to get any of them out.
His free hand cupped her cheek, brushing tears away. “Breathe, Elena. Take a breath.”
She did so, in and out, slowly and steadily, until the panic sensation in her chest eased enough.
“Will you look at me, sweetheart?” West encouraged gently, his thumb stroking her damp cheek.
Ellie swallowed before forcing her eyes open to meet his, the brilliant blue shade soft and warm, inviting her to open up. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.
His brow creased. “Go?” he repeated. “Go where?”
“Fenmore,” she squeaked. “I don’t want to leave Fenmore.”
West’s face softened, and the hand at her back pressed her closer. “Oh, Elena . . . My sweet Elena.” His thumb reached down, touching that quivering bottom lip.
She exhaled another sob. “It’s my h-home. I don’t want to go.”
West groaned and pulled her into his arms, cradling her tightly, his mouth settling just above her ear. “I know it is. I know it’s your home. I know.”
“I know it’s a scandal,” she rasped, her voice as watery as her eyes. “I know I cannot stay if we want to keep our reputations. I know people are already talking. But West . . . I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
She felt his mouth press more firmly against her hair. A kiss? A nuzzle? It was impossible to tell, but she loved it. Felt comfort from it. Took strength from it.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll find a way.”
She tried to pull back, but he refused to let her, which only made her melt into his strong, warm frame. “Will you?”
“Yes,” he told her, his mouth dusting the shell of her ear. “I will.”
The only trouble was that Ellie was not sure how he would find a way, or what that way would cost.