For Elise (3 page)

Anne Boleyn had likely looked
more pleased during the march to her own execution than Elise did walking at Miles’s side to the inn.

One did not generally expect to be met with simmering rage whilst rescuing one’s dearest friend from deprivation and poverty and returning her to the bosom of her loved ones. It wasn’t entirely unreasonable to think a person might get a smile at the very least. But Elise’s stoic aura of displeasure could be only one of two things: either she was afraid, or she was angry. Miles didn’t at all like either possibility.

Those blue eyes of their childhood that had always been full of joyful exuberance were guarded and snapping now. Her mouth, which had once perpetually smiled, remained tight and unyielding.

When she was four, only a little older than Anne appeared to be, she’d begged him to tie a parchment of scribbles to a bird so it could fly a letter to heaven for her mother to read. Tears had filled her eyes when he’d told her that birds could not carry messages to heaven. Elise had cried and Miles, not more than eight years old himself, had simply sat beside her in the meadow behind Epsworth, holding her hand. She had turned to him then for comfort but certainly didn’t want it now.

What did I do wrong?
She had shielded Anne from him, clearly seeing him as a threat. And she’d expected him to leave them both behind.

I will not leave. Not with him.
Those words echoed in his mind, growing more confusing with each repetition.

He ushered Elise and Anne into the inn. The innkeeper’s gaze slid quickly to Elise. Miles didn’t at all like the curiosity in the man’s expression or the almost smug smile he gave Miles. The innkeeper had clearly jumped to an unflattering conclusion of Miles’s intentions and Elise’s morals.

“Point me in the direction of Mr. and Mrs. Langley.” Miles summoned the aristocratic demeanor the Duke of Hartley and Miles’s cousin Lady Marion Jonquil had recently helped him perfect. It worked almost magically.

The innkeeper made a deferential bow, no longer eyeing Elise with such blatant denunciation. “Mr. and Mrs. Langley are in the front parlor.”

“These bags are to be placed in our carriage,” Miles said.

He received a silent acknowledgment.

Miles placed his hand lightly on Elise’s back to usher her inside. She flinched.
Flinched!

Every rejection cut deeper than the last. He hung back until she’d stepped inside the parlor. Beth stood near a window beside Langley, watching with wide eyes the woman who had preceded Miles into the parlor.

“Allow me to take your cloak,” Miles said quietly to Elise when she neither spoke nor moved. She hadn’t even looked in Beth’s direction.

She unfastened her cloak and slipped it off her shoulders, handing it to Miles without looking up at him. Miles had almost forgotten about Anne. She was Elise’s very copy in appearance, yet she was so quiet and still, entirely unlike Elise at that age.

Elise bent down, apparently saying something to Anne and pointing toward the small fire across the room. The little girl made her way there without a sound.

Beth’s eyes locked with Miles’s. “Elise?” she silently asked.

Miles managed a half smile and nodded. His sister fought for composure as she stepped closer. She would be so disappointed at Elise’s lukewarm reception. Beth had been devastated when Elise had disappeared. How could he possibly prepare her for an Elise who did not seem at all pleased to be with them again?

Miles looked to Langley, hoping to convey the silent message that his support might be necessary. Langley moved smoothly to his wife’s side just as she reached Elise’s.

Elise had removed her bonnet, and Miles could tell Beth was staring at her thick curls. Her eyes would be the other indisputable clue; they had not changed physically, though they bore a different look than before.

“Elise?” Beth asked, her voice quiet and uncertain.

At the nearly whispered question, Elise turned and looked at Beth, her face full profile to Miles. She still had the tiny dot of a nose he’d once teased her about and the adorably small mouth that had pouted so sweetly when she was a child.

This
was
his Elise. Even Beth hadn’t been his companion as often as Elise had. And something, he knew after all this time, was terribly wrong with her.

Elise tensed, though her gaze never wavered. “Beth,” she whispered, her words tight, as if she held others back.

Beth clasped her arms around Elise fiercely and held their childhood friend, tears running down her cheeks. Elise allowed herself to be embraced but did not return the gesture.

At least she didn’t flinch.

Miles moved toward the fireplace, feeling chilled and uneasy. Anne looked up as he approached, her brown eyes watching him closely. What would it take to make the child smile? Every child ought to smile. “Hello, Anne,” he said quietly.

She watched his face as he spoke, seemingly mesmerized, but offered no return greeting.

What made these two so solemn? Elise had already pulled back from Beth, who was attempting to dry her eyes and cheeks but finding the effort futile. No emotion registered on Elise’s face except the wariness that never seemed to fade.

“Is this your daughter?” Beth asked, motioning toward Anne. “Well, it must be. The resemblance is remarkable. What is her name?”

Miles looked down at the girl, wondering how she felt hearing herself spoken about. But Anne was still watching him, not taking note of anyone else in the room.

“Anne,” Elise said.

Beth glanced from Anne to Elise. Langley watched his wife and Elise. Miles kept an eye on all of them.

“That is a very beautiful name,” Beth said.

There was still no reaction from Anne. Perhaps the girl was timid? But her continued study of Miles made him doubt that.

“Excuse me, my lord,” a voice interrupted from the doorway.

Miles felt Elise’s gaze on him and, as he turned to look in the direction of the voice, allowed his own eyes to meet hers. He saw a momentary flash of surprise and confusion. It only made sense. When they’d last been together, Miles had been merely Mr. Linwood, but now he was the Marquess of Grenton.

“Your carriage is rigged ’n ready, your lordship.” The man at the door bowed as he spoke.

“Thank you. We shall be there directly.”

Miles saw Beth squeeze Elise’s hand. But he also saw a certain hardening in Elise’s expression, and the tiny ember of emotion that had crept into her eyes after being reunited with Beth seemed to be extinguished.

“Elise will be completing our journey with us,” Miles informed Beth and Langley.

“Of course she will be.” Beth replied as if the idea of Elise not coming was utterly preposterous. Then she began looking about the floor. “Has she no bags, no trunks?”

“I ordered her bags placed in the carriage when we first arrived,” Miles answered.

Beth offered an apologetic smile at her doubt in him. “Forgive me. I am simply so overwhelmed. I ordered the kitchens to pack a basket. I will ask that they add more to it, for Elise and sweet little Anne.” Beth lowered her voice. “Is anyone else expected?” The question dangled, another inquiry left unspoken.

“Elise is a widow,” Miles answered in a whisper.

Sadness and understanding simultaneously flooded Beth’s face.

“We can leave instructions for the kitchen as we head to the carriage, dear.” Langley stepped to the women, offering Beth his arm. “I for one would very much like to reach the Wren and Hound before nightfall.”

Elise’s eyes turned to Langley then. “Mr. Langley,” she said with a brief curtsy.

Langley smiled at her. “Forgive me for not greeting you before, Miss . . . er . . .”

“Mrs. Jones,” Elise answered quietly.

“Mrs. Jones,” Langley continued. “I did not realize you remembered me, and I did not wish to take away from Beth’s reunion with a dear friend.”

“I most certainly do remember you, though I were little more than a child last I saw you.”

Beth stared. It was the first sentence Elise had uttered that was long enough for her lowered accent and word choice to be truly obvious. Langley wisely pulled Beth away before she could pester Elise with questions.

Elise, to Miles’s surprise, made her way to where he stood. Perhaps seeing Beth had eased her nerves enough for her to warm to him again. Miles smiled at her approach, but she moved past him and directly to Anne. She touched the girl on the shoulder, and for the first time since Miles had moved to the fireplace, Anne looked away from him.

Elise motioned toward the door. Anne nodded and slipped her hand into her mother’s. The two walked away from him without a word or a look. Elise acted as though he didn’t even exist. Why was she so cold and distant? How could she possibly be so devoid of emotions when his own were reeling?

She stopped at the doorway, however, and turned back toward him. Miles held his breath. Would she smile? Offer some word of kindness?

“They called you m’ lord.’”

That was all she meant to say? Nothing remotely personal? No expression of happiness at being reunited? Frustration boiled over. “You are not the only one who has had a name change,
Ella
,” he answered.

Her spine stiffened at his chiding tone, her expression grew even more closed, and Miles instantly regretted his outburst. Before he could offer an apology, Elise turned and walked from the room, picking up the home-sewn cloak as she left.

Anne gave him one last penetrating glance as Elise pulled her through the open door. The pleading in her expression pulled at him as surely as if she’d tugged at a thread sewn to his heart.

I’m not about to give up, little Anne. I promise you that.

Only by sheer force of
will did Elise climb inside the traveling carriage. If not for the steady rainfall, she’d have insisted on riding up with the driver. But she wouldn’t subject Anne to the weather or allow the girl to ride inside without her.

They’d been on the road for two hours. Two agonizing hours. Elise tapped her feet over and over, faster and faster. She pushed through each fast, shallow breath, watching the road intensely. Anne had fallen asleep on the seat between Elise and Beth. Mr. Langley sat across from them beside Miles.

Miles.
No, he was Lord Something-or-other now. How had that happened? She hadn’t known he was in line for a title. Had Miles known? If so, he’d never told her.

The carriage hit a rut. Elise held her breath. Her heart raced. Anne stirred, leaning against her. Elise stroked Anne’s hair, settling her back into sleep even as she herself struggled for calm.

“Elise?” Beth whispered from beside her. “Are you unwell?”

Elise shook her head but said nothing, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. She had to get out of the carriage. Soon. She shut her eyes for a moment, fisting her hands and trying to slow her desperate breathing. But images and sensations, unbidden and unwanted, rushed in from the recesses of her memory.

A rumbling carriage. The dark of night. A sudden shift followed by a jarring stop. Angry voices.

“Elise.”

Elise opened her eyes on the instant, the memories still too vivid in her mind. “We have to stop,” she insisted, recognizing the first vestiges of panic in her voice. “We have to—”

“We
have
stopped,” Beth said.

“Why? Why ’ave we stopped?” She could hardly form the words, so fast was panic setting in. “Is somethin’ wrong? Has—”

“We’ve reached the inn.”

Elise heard the confusion and concern in Beth’s voice but didn’t turn to look at her. Elise reached for the handle of the carriage door even as she slid off her seat. She had to get out of the carriage. She had to be outside, away from the memories and the panic.

She flung the door open, but before she could step out, a hand took gentle hold of her arm.

“The step isn’t down, Elise,” Miles said.

She jerked her arm free of his grasp.

“It will only be—” Miles stopped short as a liveried servant came to the side of the carriage and, without comment, let down the step.

Elise didn’t wait for assistance but flew down the step, clutching Anne to her. She took great gulps of air, moving quickly away from the carriage, uncaring that the rain continued to fall. Only when she reached a bench just outside the entrance under a protective awning did she stop. Anne had understandably awoken. She watched Elise with surprise. All Elise could do was hold her and try to breathe.

She hadn’t expected the ride to be as bad as it was. She’d anticipated some discomfort but not the panic. Too many memories. Too much pain.

“Elise?”

She couldn’t endure Miles’s company just then. She hadn’t the strength to keep herself calm and in control.

“What’s wrong, Elise? Can I do anything for you?”

“No.”

“But you—”

“I didn’t ask you to drag me away from my home, so you can just leave me alone now that you’ve forced me into it.” She turned enough to shield Anne from the mist of rain making its way under the overhang.

“The rain has stopped a great many travelers, Grenton,” Mr. Langley said to Miles.
Grenton? Miles’s new title?
“There are only the two rooms we reserved earlier.”

Elise pulled Anne to her. They had no place to sleep, it seemed. She would think of a solution. She had learned self-sufficiency very quickly not many years back.

“Perhaps Beth could share with Elise and Anne. You and I could use the other room,” Miles suggested.

Mr. Langley nodded his approval. “The rooms
are
adjacent to one another,” Mr. Langley said, though Elise wasn’t sure whom he was trying to reassure. “There should be no concern over anyone’s safety.”

“Anne needs to rest,” Elise said to the others in general. “If you’d show us to our room, I’d be appreciative.”

They were quickly deposited in a snug room with a bed and a trundle. Beth’s maid laid out their meager clothes, a luxury Elise had been long without. A sudden surge of emotion accompanied the realization that someone was looking out for her again. She clamped the emotion down as she always did. She simply could not let herself be lulled by long-forgotten familiarity or pleasant luxuries.

The others would most likely expect her at dinner, but Elise couldn’t bring herself to go. She was tired and overwhelmed and plagued by flashes of memory. She missed Mama Jones, the only friend she’d had for years.

Elise laid Anne on the trundle, then lay down beside her, knowing she’d probably never sleep.

The enormity of all that had happened settled on her like a crushing weight. She was back in Miles’s sphere again, where he held so much sway. He’d had the power before to sever every lifeline she’d had. Now he was a titled member of the aristocracy. She hadn’t warranted his consideration before. Their circumstances were now horribly disparate. She could no longer expect to be extended the kindness she had once taken for granted. He hadn’t thought her worthy of it even before she’d sunk so low, so he certainly wouldn’t now.

Elise stroked Anne’s hair. Her breaths had already grown deep and slow, a sure sign the child slept. Did Anne realize the magnitude of their change in situation? Elise hoped at the very least Anne wasn’t afraid. Elise was afraid enough for the both of them.

Oh, my sweet girl, I fear I may be in deeper than I can stand.

She was returning to Epsworth, Miles’s home, a place she’d dreamed of and dreaded for years. She’d known some of the most wonderful days of her life there but had passed the worst in those halls as well. Being there again would put her within walking distance of Furlong House, though she had no idea who lived there now.

She could see all of it so clearly in her mind. The meadow so large that both estates had claim to part of it. The apple trees they’d climbed as children. The rambling garden, where they’d often played. The bower in front of Epsworth, where Elise had tried to buy roasted chestnuts from Miles and Beth. The nursery where she’d found Miles after his mother’s death. They’d sat there for hours, neither one talking but both understanding his pain. But clearer than all the rest was the Epsworth library and the bitter, hateful words that had ended her time there.

She would be there again. Facing it all.

“I am afraid,” she whispered into the dark room. “I am so very afraid.”

She focused on Anne. The girl disliked the dark—she felt lost without light. Elise pulled Anne close to her, tucking the blanket around them both. Anne curled into a ball with Elise’s arms wrapped around her. She was so tiny, not a baby but not fully a child yet either. Elise settled Anne’s head beneath her chin. She closed her eyes and hoped she would quickly fall asleep. Only in the oblivion of slumber did the pain leave her.

* * *

Little was spoken of at dinner. Miles knew he was poor company, his mind occupied every minute of the evening with thoughts of the past.

It slid over him in alarming detail, as if he were living it anew.

“Upon your father’s death, all of his responsibilities, financial and otherwise, fell to you, Mr. Linwood.” Mr. Cane, the family solicitor, had set a stack of papers on the desk in the Epsworth library. “Of course you will need time to sort out all of these.”

Miles had nodded mechanically, fingering the black band around his arm. Father had been gone only forty-eight hours. It was still too surreal for comprehension. His mind struggled to wrap around his loss, let alone his new responsibilities.

“I would not burden you with these”—Mr. Cane indicated the stack— “if not for two pressing matters which require your immediate attention.”

Miles took a deep breath. He was only nineteen years old. He ought to have been preparing to return to Oxford, not mourning his father and taking over the management of their estate. “What are these pressing obligations?”

“Your father left behind some debts.”

Miles nodded a little impatiently. His father had not been irresponsible. The debts would be insignificant.

“And there is also the welfare of your late father’s ward.”

“His ward?” Miles had never heard of his father having been someone’s guardian.

“Your ward now,” Mr. Cane said. “I understand it has been determined that Mr. Furlong predeceased your late father.”

Miles nodded.

“Your father was named in Mr. Furlong’s will as guardian to his daughter,” Mr. Cane said. “Upon Mr. Furlong’s death, guardianship passed to your father and, upon his death, passed to you.”

“Elise? I am Elise’s guardian?”

“It seems so.” Mr. Cane gave him a significant look. “I do not believe she has any family and cannot be expected, at sixteen—”

“Fifteen,” Miles corrected.

“At fifteen,” Mr. Cane amended, “to live alone or manage her own affairs.”

“She will always have a home with me,” Miles assured the man. He would no sooner abandon Elise than he would Beth.

“You are now responsible for all of her concerns,” Mr. Cane said. “The late Mr. Furlong did not leave his affairs in a favorable way.”

“In what way are they unfavorable?” It seemed he was to have trouble heaped on top of trouble.

“The bulk of the difficulty lies with the Furlong finances. You will find a brief overview in the papers provided.”

One of the advantages of both Mr. Furlong and Miles’s father having used the same solicitor was how the connection would simplify Miles’s sudden load of responsibilities. Still, he let out a tense breath. What he wouldn’t give for the freedom to go for a long, bruising ride and simply leave his obligations behind.

“I should go speak with Elise.” Miles wondered how she was holding up. Elise had said very little since coming to stay at Epsworth a few short hours after their fathers’ deaths.

“I have not said anything of this to Miss Furlong,” Mr. Cane said. “I felt that was best left to you.”

Miles nodded his agreement and rose, leaving the room to search out Elise, though he was fairly certain he knew where to find her.

A particularly large tree grew very nearly in the center of the meadow their estates shared. He and Elise had spent most every summer afternoon under that tree when they were young and still wandered there to talk and laugh. It was often the center of the croquet field they constructed every September to celebrate the coming of autumn.

Miles stepped over several croquet arches still up after two months of spirited games and made his way to the tree. Elise sat under it. She looked up as he approached. The raw pain he saw in her eyes deepened his own very real suffering.

“I have something diverting to share with you,” Miles said, attempting a lightness he knew he didn’t achieve.

“I believe I would like to hear something diverting.”

Miles lowered himself beside her on the blanket and took her hand as he had done ever since they were small children. “It seems, my dear friend, that by some quirk of fate, I have been appointed your legal guardian.”

She looked up at him once more, surprise evident in her eyes. “You?”

Miles raised his eyebrows ironically.

“You have been charged with keeping me out of scrapes and mischief?” She actually smiled. Miles realized, seeing it, that it was the first real smile he’d had from her in days.

What a horrible burden she had to be bearing. He was determined to ease her pain, if only for a moment.

“And I will be tight-fisted with your pin money like any good guardian would be.”

Elise’s smile, though shaky, remained.

“And, of course, I will be highly responsible and the perfect example of good behavior.”

Elise looked doubtful.

“And in a few years’ time, I will have the great pleasure of petrifying any and all of your suitors and threatening your future husband should he neglect your welfare.”

The shaky smile slipped all together. “Papa used to say that too,” Elise whispered as the tears began falling. She leaned heavily against him.

“Do not cry, Elise,” Miles pleaded, wrapping his arms around his friend. “I will take care of you.”

“Do you promise, Miles?” Sobs broke her words. “Do you promise you’ll never leave me?”

“I swear to you, my dearest Elise. I will never leave you.”

Six weeks after he’d made that promise, Elise had vanished.

But she was with him once more. He intended to keep that long-ago promise. He would see to it that she had more than a tiny dark cottage to live in, that she needn’t beg for scraps from the local merchants. More importantly, he would find out what had happened to her, why she’d left home, where she’d been since then. And somehow, he would find again the bright-eyed, smiling girl he’d adored since his childhood.