Page 68 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
…die. I am to move to Paris with his regiment. I thought I should do as he said and let you know I am with child.
There was no more to say.
Yours sincerely, Eleanor Harding, your daughter-in-law.
She had met Paul’s father when he had come to the house party with Paul. She had no idea if the man thought kindly of her. Paul had said very little about his father following their marriage.
Ellen understood that now. Her sisters’ images crept through her thoughts. Her father’s house was another world, they would never be able to imagine this one. She would have nothing to speak to them about.
Still, Paul had told her to write, and he seemed confident the Earl would help her.
Having folded and sealed that letter, Ellen began another, to her father.
Father, I do not know if you have heard, but Paul died in the battle of Waterloo.
Again tears ran over and spilled onto the page.
His Lieutenant Colonel is taking me as far as Paris. But I have nothing of my own, no money or items left. Would you send me the money for a passage home? I am with child. Yours affectionately, Eleanor.
Surely her father would know how hard things were here. Surely he would understand and help.
Once she’d addressed both letters she took them down to the hall. Lieutenant Colonel Hillier had said he would send her letters through the army packets.
He was there. He came from the drawing room as her foot left the bottom step of the stairs.
‘Ellen.’
‘These are the letters I spoke of,’ she said quietly.
‘Take them,’ he said to a footman, who immediately moved forward to lift them out of her hand.
Lieutenant Colonel Hillier gave Ellen a stiff slight bow, his hands clasped behind his back. Then he straightened and met her gaze. ‘Will you take tea with me?’
It would be impolite to refuse. ‘If that is what you wish.’
‘It is. Come then.’ He lifted a hand, encouraging her to join him in the drawing room, while looking at the butler to fulfil the order for tea to be delivered.
When Ellen entered the room his hand momentarily touched her lower back as she passed him. A prickle ran across her skin, but she ignored it.
‘Do sit.’ He lifted a hand, directing her to one of the two soft chairs in the sunshine pouring through the window which looked out onto the garden.
Brushing her dress beneath her to stop the black calico creasing, she did as he said.
He took the seat opposite her. ‘Your maid said your sickness has eased a little…’
‘Yes.’
‘And do you feel any better in yourself?’
No. She still missed Paul, like there was a burning hole within her. ‘I am able to think a little easier now. But I shall always miss my husband.’
He was silent, his eyes looking into hers, with unspoken questions. Then he sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose you shall.’ He leaned forward and held her hand. It was a habit he had formed, holding her hand on many occasions without asking her permission. She wanted to pull it away, but it was not within her to be rude. He lifted it. A shiver stirred across her skin as he pressed his warm lips against her glove. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked through the seconds his lips remained on her glove, and her skin crawled with invisible insects.
Why did he not let go? Everything like this he seemed to do for a little too long. After a minute, or two, he released her hand.
She clasped her hands together in her lap, unable to meet his gaze, but he reached out and touched her chin. ‘I know you are hurting, Ellen, I understand that, and I shall be here for you.’
His hand fell.
