Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady (Transformation of the Shelley Sisters 2)

‘You must make what changes you wish,’ Elliott said. ‘I have no sentimental attachments to anything here.’

‘Oh.’ That was rather chilling. She had hoped to explore with him, find treasures from his childhood that he would tell her about, learn the history of the old house and get to know him in the process. ‘What is your smaller estate like? Is it close?’ The carriage swept past the front of the hall and turned towards the Dower House.

‘About ten miles south of here, towards Moreton in Marsh. The house is more a yeoman farmer’s than anything more grand, but the land is good.’ Despite his measured description Arabella could hear affection and pride in his voice.

‘What will you do with it, now you have this?’ Bella allowed him to help her down from the carriage, wishing the dusk was not falling. It would be good to see her new home in sunlight. ‘What is it called?’

‘Fosse Warren. It is close to the Fosse Way, a Roman road. I have no choice but to leave it in the hands of my steward, he’s a good man.’ There was something in his eyes that told Bella that it was a wrench to leave the estate in other hands, however trusted.

‘And the house will be standing empty,’ she said, thinking about damp and keeping rooms aired. She must find out about housekeeping there.

‘I will let it out, I expect,’ Elliott said, steering her round a hole in the drive. ‘I will not dispose of it; it can become the second son’s portion.’

‘But it is your home,’ she protested, managing not to blush at the reference to another child. But Elliott would do his duty to this land, this house and its people, just as he was doing his duty to her. Of course he was thinking ahead, making plans for the future of the family.

‘Hadleigh Old Hall is my home now. And yours,’ he added as he knocked. ‘Ironic, is it not? I never expected to live here, while you thought you were to be its mistress although you had never seen it. And now we must both call it home.’

The door opened before Bella could respond. ‘My lord, Miss Shelley.’ Dawson seemed less frail today, or perhaps he had been expecting them and had not been alarmed by the knocker. ‘Her ladyship and Miss Dorothy are in the drawing room, my lord.’

Bella took a deep breath. Miss Dorothy had been charming, but Lady Abbotsbury would be an entirely different kettle of fish, she suspected. How had Elliott described her? Querulous, that was it. She had managed with the bishop, now she must manage with the dowager; she could not let Elliott down.

‘Elliott? What is this Dorothy tells me?’ The sharp voice began the moment Elliott stepped through the drawing room door. ‘Marriage to some country girl no one has ever heard of? What are you about? Eh?’

Chapter Seven

A country girl no one has heard of. That is exactly what I am, Bella thought. His family are going to hate me, I am not good enough, he will realise…

‘Great-Aunt Alice, Miss Shelley is here,’ Elliott said reprovingly, with a squeeze of Bella’s hand. The panic subsided a little.

‘I can see that! Come here, girl.’

Bella dropped her best curtsy and stood in front of Lady Abbotsbury, summoning up all the calm she used in the face of Papa’s worst moods. ‘Lady Abbotsbury. Thank you for allowing me to stay here.’

‘Not much choice! Harum-scarum way of doing things, I must say.’ The old lady’s cheeks were plump and brushed with rouge, her hair was piled high, augmented with false curls and padding and her gown was of the last century: brocade and panniers and lace. But her eyes were sharp and dark and interested entirely in the present moment as they studied Bella. ‘You’re very pale, child. What have you got to say for yourself, Miss Shelley?’

‘I will do my best to make Lord Hadleigh a good wife, Lady Abbotsbury.’

‘Glad to hear it.

What do you say to that, eh, Elliott? You’ve done better than that rakehell brother of yours, bringing home a nicely behaved young lady who thinks as she ought.’ The black eyes showed no softening as she pronounced her approval.

‘I will do my best to make Arabella a good husband,’ he replied, bending to kiss his great-aunt on the cheek. She responded by fetching him a smart blow on the arm with her fan, but Bella guessed she was pleased with the gesture. ‘Thank you for looking after her for me. She is pale because she is tired; she has had a trying few days.’

‘Hmm.’ The knowing eyes studied Bella, but Lady Abbotsbury made no comment. She knows, Bella thought. She knows about the baby.

She waved them to the sofa. ‘What is happening tomorrow? No one ever tells me anything.’

‘We will be married in the parish church by licence at three. Daniel Calne will give Arabella away. There will be a dinner afterwards, which I hope you will feel able to attend.’

‘Doesn’t matter if I feel up to it or not,’ the old lady snapped. ‘You need it to be seen that I approve. I’ll write to all my acquaintances, never you fear. Arabella will be accepted despite this hugger-mugger affair. You’ll be making the round of visits to all the family at once, I dare say.’

‘I thought not,’ Elliott said smoothly. ‘Arabella has a lot to learn here and I expect to be much occupied with estate matters.’

‘Will you, indeed?’ The chuckle was wicked. ‘That’s one way of describing it! So we can be expecting a happy event in the new year?’

Bella could feel herself turning scarlet. She had heard about the outspoken language of some of Lady Abbotsbury’s generation, but she had never encountered it before. Obviously the old harridan had second sight. She made a conscious effort not to lay her hand protectively over her belly.

‘So, you’ve found yourself a good girl who knows how to blush, Elliott. Excellent. Most of these modern misses are too brassy to remember how.’