Chapter Twenty-Two #2
And yet, when Miss Cheney was gone and Maria took up her sewing, that Mr. Cheney might have his “comfortable coze” (which she imagined would be fifteen minutes of bellowed chit chat on his part), he merely took up his mother’s hand, patting it, and turned to regard Maria.
“So, Mrs. Ellsworth, Tabby pays you to sit here a few times a week? How long has this been going on?”
“Not quite a fortnight.” Though she did not look up from her stitching, she could feel his pale gaze on her. She did not care for it, but she supposed he was allowed to be curious about this stranger in his mother’s house.
“And you sit there and sew?”
“Sometimes. Other times I play for Mrs. Cheney or assist her with her work. We have even been for a walk.”
He mulled this over, still patting his mother’s hand while she smiled fondly at him. Then: “Cold outside,” he declared next, so loudly that Maria understood this remark was not directed at her.
“Mm-hm,” agreed Mrs. Cheney.
“You don’t mind Tabby leaving you?” he roared.
His mother shook her head.
“Mrs. Ellsworth here doesn’t mistreat you?”
Maria drew breath to object, but Mrs. Cheney chuckled, wagging a finger at him.
“I know, I know. I’m a naughty lad.”
More chuckles from his mother, and she laid a cheek against his arm. It was clear who her favorite was. Not the daughter who supported and sheltered her, nor the children who visited regularly, but this more slippery son.
Deeming he had paid sufficient filial duty for the month, Mr. Cheney turned his attention once more to Maria. “So you’re Mrs. Ellsworth, are you? I don’t suppose you’re any relation to the Ellsworths of New College?”
Maria held very still.
“The who?” she croaked.
His flaxen eyebrows scaled his flaxen forehead. “Is Mama’s deafness catching? The Ellsworths, I say. Messieurs Benjamin and Austin Ellsworth.”
“Oh, yes. I thought you said ‘Elsewas.’”
“Ellsworth. So…you are related?”
There was no evading the question, unless she out and out lied. Impossible, when her lie could so easily be exposed. But—oh—how the truth might do equal damage!
“I am Mrs. Benjamin Ellsworth,” she admitted.
To her vexation, Mr. Raymond Cheney laughed and gave his mother’s hand another few pats. “Benjamin Ellsworth’s wife! How do you like that? I am not a bit surprised.”
Maria could not resist taking the bait. “Indeed?” she asked. “Why so?”
“Because he has a reputation, you know, your lord and master, of muckering up what he can. Always on the scramble for the necessary. And now I see he has enlisted another soldier in the fight.”
“He has done nothing of the kind,” she retorted before she could weigh her words. She only knew she couldn’t bear to hear her husband mocked by this—this wooden-headed bedpost! “He doesn’t know a thing about my—time—here, not that it is any of your concern.”
Mr. Cheney whistled. “Goodness me, what a fiery temper. You must lead him a dance. So Ellsworth does not know my sister Tabby has employed you?”
“He—does not. It was—it was meant to be a surprise. And—I pray you would let me be the one who tells him of it.” It choked her to make the request, and when she saw his thin lips curl in a smirk she longed to run him through with her embroidery needle.
“Certainly, Mrs. Ellsworth. I can keep a secret as well as you, I daresay.”
With clenched teeth she gave one nod meant to express her thanks, but Mr. Cheney would be forgiven for interpreting it otherwise.
At any rate, he soon took his leave, after a last kiss for his adoring mother.
Maria wished she could go as well—because what might Mr. Cheney do or say before she herself could get to Benjamin?
—but there was nothing to be done. She stayed, venting her feelings by hammering out a dozen country dances on the instrument, one after another.
The instant Miss Cheney returned, however, Maria snatched up her cloak, shouting her good-byes. This time she did not return to Pembroke Street, however, but clacked up Oriel and Catherine Streets as quickly as her pattens could carry her and before her courage could fail.
She had never before visited New College.
Hardly surprising, given that her brothers-in-law Philip Egerton and Adam Hearne were alumni of Christ Church, but it had been pointed out to her on some walk or drive in the past several years, and she wished now that she had asked her husband to take her through the college’s buildings and grounds, so that she would not now be such a stranger to it.
At the porter’s lodge a burly man who might have been the twin of the St. John’s porter eyed her with skepticism. “Yes? How may I help you?”
“Good morning to you. I am Mrs. Benjamin Ellsworth, and I hoped to speak with my husband.”
Her name created a stir, to her dismay, with everyone in earshot pausing whatever he was doing to inspect her.
“Pleasure, ma’am,” said the porter, now all alertness and curiosity.
“Thank you. Er—might he be called? Or fetched, that I might have a quick word?” she asked.
She knew ladies were not allowed to prowl the college, even if she had the nerve to try.
Truly, she had no idea where Benjamin might be found at any particular hour, whether in the senior common room or the hall or chapel, and she shrank at the thought of running up and down passages, encountering countless strangers, and getting lost.
“Ten to one he’s in his chambers or will be again shortly,” returned the porter.
Maria nearly asked, “Has he still chambers?” but she managed to stop herself, thinking it must be part and parcel of his fellowship.
“Course he has. Ellsworth does all his tutoring and what-not there. And if he isn’t within, Mr. Austin Ellsworth might be, and he will know where to find him.”
“May someone be sent there for him, then?” she repeated, forcing down her impatience.
“Someone might.” Here he glanced over his shoulder at a scrubby boy sitting upon a stool and scratching under his arm.
But he thought better of sending Rupert with the young lady.
For all that she and Ellsworth had married under hasty and disreputable circumstances, she seemed gentlewoman-like enough.
“But it’s easy enough to find. Front quad, south wall, second staircase, third floor on left.
” Letting himself out from behind the counter, he beckoned for her to follow, calling back to the boy, “You there, Rupert! Look alive for half a twinkling.”
It was as straightforward as he described, and a few minutes later the porter deposited Maria before Benjamin Ellsworth’s door, slipping away to return to his post after another bow.
There was no one in the passage, she was grateful to see, but just as she lifted a hand to knock, Benjamin’s door opened, and a messy-haired boy in a school uniform nearly ran her down. The two shrieked at each other in surprise, the boy dashing away with a mumbled apology.
“Confound it, Stubbs,” came a familiar voice, “don’t tell me you’ve seen another mouse.”