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

‘I am expecting a baby.’

‘Wonderful!’ Anne leaned over and squeezed Bella’s hand. ‘I must confess to guessing that you were. Your figure, if you do not mind me saying so, has changed since the wedding! When is it due?’

‘Early December,’ Bella said. Anne froze halfway back against the squabs, her mouth forming an O as she did the calculation.

‘Yes, I am afraid things were anticipated more than a little,’ Bella admitted.

‘But it is very romantic—a clandestine love affair! And how dashing of Elliott, the sly dog!’

‘Oh, please do not tease him about it!’ Anne smiled and shook her head. ‘I so dread the gossip when I cannot hide it any more—which will be any moment now. My father did not approve—he thinks aristocrats are immoral—so it was all rather difficult, which is why we…which is why I ran away.

‘My mother died years ago, and my sisters have left home and I—Anne, I would so much value your advice. I have no idea what to expect and I want to be a perfect mother.’ She swallowed, suddenly emotional. ‘You see, I keep bursting into tears at the slightest thing. And I made Elliott alarmed and he called the doctor about something perfectly normal…’

‘Oh, my dear, of course you can talk to me. I was so lucky, I had Mama close by and my two older sisters both have children. But even then there was much to ask about. Now, I must have a boy and you must have a girl and then we can plan a marriage that will embarrass them enormously when we tease them about it in twenty years’ time!’

Perhaps that was her best hope, a daughter. Surely Elliott would love a little girl and then his own son—their own son—would be the heir. But it seemed wrong to wish the child to be anything but who it already was. He or she should be loved unreservedly for themselves.

But that nagging anxiety apart, this journey to Worcester was a far happier one than her trip with Elliott to meet the bishop, Bella mused when the pair of them sat back to draw breath after her long list of questions and worries had been discussed. She was married now, the baby’s future was at least secure, things with Elliott were as comfortable as she could hope, given that she was in love with him and he was simply being kind and doing his duty.

In the bedroom comfortable was not quite the word, she thought, suppressing the smile that tried to escape every time she thought about their lovemaking. If it were not for the fact that she was terrified of losing control and blurting out her feelings, Bella thought that aspect of her marriage was almost perfect. Except, perhaps, that she wanted to do more, be more adventurous. Elliott appeared to like her touching him, but what if she tried to kiss him as he kissed her, intimately, and gave him a disgust of her for being wanton, just when he had begun to forget, she hoped, how badly she had behaved with Rafe?

And she wished he would invite his friends to stay, or that they could go on visits. Or even tell her more about the estate and how she could help. When she asked he fobbed her off with concerns about her strength, her health, and she wondered if he thought she would blunder out of ignorance or try to interfere with what he saw as his business. She wanted to be busy, and of use, and sometimes she felt a little lonely.

At three in the morning when she lay awake and her worst fears came to haunt her, she wondered if Elliott was ashamed of her. She was no beauty, whatever he told her, she had brought him no useful alliance, nor a dowry, and she had no idea yet how to go on in society. And there was the pregnancy, of course.

But she must not be gloomy now, not with her new friend to bear her company and the prospect of an entire day shopping in front of them. ‘I have chosen the fabrics for my suite,’ she said, taking the samples from her reticule and showing Anne. ‘And I must visit the dressmaker to have some gowns altered and new ones made.’

‘And we can look at things for the nursery,’ Anne suggested. ‘John asks what I can possibly want to buy, for everything I had for Prunella is wrapped up in the attic, but men never seem to understand about shopping.’

‘Elliott does, I think. At least, he seemed to enjoy buying clothes with me,’ Bella ventured.

‘All of them frivolous and most of them for the boudoir, if I can hazard a guess,’ Anne said with a grin. ‘That is characteristic of new husbands; it does not persist, or apply to everyday articles, I am afraid.’

But even selecting new sheets for the servants’ rooms or choosing between one style of sensible walking boot and another had charm when it was done in company with a friend who had a lively sense of humour and excellent taste.

Chapter Nineteen

Bella perched on a rather high stool at the counter of Messieurs Wildegrave and Harris, Linen Drapers, and decided on eight cotton towels at sixteen pence each instead of the cheaper ones at twelve pence. They would wear better. Ten shillings and eight pence, she wrote against that item on her list.

‘This poplin would be very suitable for the linings, Lady Hadleigh,’ the assistant said, placing a large roll on the counter before her.

‘Yes, I—’ There was a muffled exclamation beside her and Bella turned to see an elegant lady in her forties, accompanied by a pretty blonde. They were both staring at her.

‘Lady Hadleigh?’ the older woman said in tones of disbelief.

‘Why, yes.’ Bella stared back. She might not be entirely up to snuff in all matters of etiquette, but this abrupt question from a stranger was certainly not normal polite behaviour. ‘I am sorry, ma’am, but you have the advantage of me.’

‘Rafe Calne’s widow?’ the woman demanded. ‘I had no idea—’

‘No! Elliott’s Calne’s wife.’

The younger woman gave a little gasp. ‘Elliott is married?’

‘Yes, he is.’ Bella was beginning to feel both embarrassed and irritated. People were looking, the sales assistant was standing there with his mouth open. ‘The announcement was sent to the newspapers.’

‘We have just got back from visiting Aunt Marjorie who is sick,’ the younger woman said. ‘She does not approve of newspapers—’

‘Frederica.’ Her mother silenced her with a gesture. ‘The engagement must have been of short duration.’