Finch did not speak again until they were back at the stable yard. He helped Ellie dismount, then stood there, whip and hat in his big hands, and just looked at her. ‘My lady…’
‘Don’t speak of this, Finch. Except to Polly.’
She patted Toffee and went inside, up to her bedchamber, and rang for the maid. ‘Please tell anyone who asks that I have a headache and do not wish to be disturbed.’
‘My lady? What is wrong?’
‘Go and talk to Finch.’
Ellie locked the doors behind her and went to sit in front of the dressing table mirror. She was in love with, and married to, a man obsessed with a past love, and now she was carrying his child. Which would be a miracle if only she could feel happy about anything else in this marriage. She should have realised sooner, but it was very early days and she had explained the irregularity in her courses to herself as being due to the excitements and changes of the past few weeks.
But she was pregnant, and somehow she had to come to terms with the reality, because this marriage must be saved for the sake of the child. And for Blake’s sake.
And because I love him and I will not give up on him.
And yet she would be bearing a child whose father saw it as a dynastic pawn, just as he had been.
‘Do not leave me, Eleanor,’ he had said in jest.
And she had promised. ‘No, I never will. I keep my vows…’
And when she had agreed to marry him she had asked for his fidelity, and Blake had said, ‘While we agree that the marriage is real then you will have my fidelity, not only the appearance of it.’
While we agree…
Well, what she had seen was presumably as clear an indication as she could ever receive that for Blake the appearance of their marriage and what lay in his heart were two quite different things. How did that make a real marriage? The kind she had dreamt of, hoped for? How could she trust him to treat his children with the love and warmth she wanted for them?
Ellie took off her hat and her gloves and contemplated her reflection in the mirror. Strangely, she felt no desire to weep. She still loved him, so the human heart was obviously more resilient than she had imagined. But she could not face Blake just now—not with the news that should have made her so very happy.
She could not force him to change so she must learn to cope, and that was hard to face while she felt weak and ill and unhappy. She needed time to herself, time to become stronger both in body and spirit, and then she would return and somehow build a family from a hollow marriage. Now, feeling as she did both sick and betrayed, she would only lose her temper, say things that might never be forgotten or forgiven.
For a moment she hesitated. Stay? Confront him with his broken promises? What good would that do other than to humiliate her? No. She was Countess of Hainford and she had a farm—even if it had been absorbed into Blake’s estates on their marriage—and money in the bank. All she had to do was to get to Carndale…so far away, so peaceful and uncomplicated.
Ellie began to stand and realised that she was shaking and very cold. If she just lay down for a while… No. If she did that she would weep, and she needed to be strong—had to be strong. She tugged the bell-pull and then remembered that the door was locked. She opened it just as Polly reached it.
‘My lady! James has told me! Such wonderful news! I had begun to wonder…but then you often are irregular so I didn’t like to hope, but—’
‘Thank you, Polly. But not everything is… There is some trouble between the Earl and myself. I need to be by myself for a while, just to…to think, you understand?’
Polly obviously did not, but she nodded. ‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Is the Earl back yet?’
Polly shook her head.
‘Then please bring Finch here.’
Polly blinked, opened her mouth as though to protest, then left without asking questions. Ellie began to rummage in drawers to find her pin money.
‘My lady.’ Finch came in, closed the door and stood, stolid as always, as though he was used to being summoned to the Countess’s bedchamber.
‘I need to travel to Lancashire immediately. Is there a carriage and horses I can use to get me to the nearest posting inn to hire a chaise?’
‘There’s the Countess’s travelling carriage, my lady, and a second team of horses. You’ve no need to go post.’
‘But how would I return it?’
‘It is your carriage, ma’am. And I will drive.’