Page 73 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
Ellen did not answer.
‘Forgive me, ma’am,’ she called again, as though she knew Ellen was pretending to be asleep. ‘Lieutenant Colonel Hillier has sent me…’
Ellen shut her eyes as her stomach turned, even at the mention of his name. But she knew then, Megan knew, she knew what had happened last night. She knew Ellen was hiding here and pretending to be asleep.
‘I have told the lieutenant colonel you are unwell,’ Megan continued, speaking on the other side of the door, possibly too embarrassed to enter and look Ellen in the eye. ‘He still insists you come down for dinner this evening, ma’am…’
Shock pulled Ellen into answering. ‘Then you must tell him, I will not.’
Megan did not quibble or even reply, it was as though that was what she wanted Ellen to say. Ellen heard Megan’s footsteps walk away.
A few moments later, there was a much firmer, hard knock on the door.
Oh my Lord. She had not learned; she had not locked the door, but only to allow Megan to enter.
Ellen slid out of the bed and pulled a shawl off a chair near the bed, wrapping it about her shoulders.
‘Ellen?’ His voice carried the pitch of command. ‘May I come in?’
Her stomach spun. If she ran across the room and locked the door, he would hear and possibly open it before she reached it – as he had done last night.
‘I am not dressed,’ she called back.
There was an odd sound, then a cough.
Ellen prayed he would not come in.
‘But you are out of bed…’ His voice was now coaxing. ‘You cannot be so unwell. It will do you good to come down to dinner, I think, and I require your company.’ The last was an order.
Ellen’s arms folded over her chest, hugging the shawl about her. She wanted to run. But to where? Her fate might be worse if she was left on the street to beg.
‘Do you agree to dine with me?’
She said nothing. Defiant – even though she had no escape.
‘Ellen?’
She still did not reply.
‘Ellen!’
She knew he would not let her say no.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was weak.
When Megan returned to help her dress a while later, Ellen did not speak. She could not. She stood like a mannequin and let her maid do what she needed to, dressing her up like doll for their master’s games.
Occasionally she caught Megan glancing at their reflections in the mirror. Then her skin would redden as she avoided Ellen’s gaze.
Megan knew.The servants serving her tonight would know too.
Her mind returned to the first days she had spent in the lieutenant colonel’s house in Brussels – she recalled the fuss he had made purchasing things, walking her through the streets on his horse in that ridiculous procession. She could have walked. She saw the young maid in the house greeting her with constant blushes. Ellen was as certain as the sun would fall and rise, that the maid had known this was always the lieutenant colonel’s intent.
He had sold Ellen’s possessions so she would have no money, he must have stopped her receiving Paul’s back payment of salary. He had not let her leave the house to the help the wounded… If she had gone, Mrs Beard would have helped her, or another of the women.
She closed her eyes. She had thought her naivety left behind in Pembroke Place with her life as the daughter of a duke. But no, she had known nothing of the dangers of the world.
‘I am finished, ma’am.’
