Page 39 of His Bluestocking Bride

"Ah. Thank you.” He stared into her eyes and she could see, behind the light brown irises, his gathering thoughts.

“We haven’t received many invitations and you haven’t had many callers.”

“Both statements are correct,” Ellen said, tilting her head to one side. “But it is a difficult time of year, with the weather, to be out visiting or entertaining.”

Marcus shook his head. “I think you and I both know that isn’t the case here.”

Ellen’s chest tightened and she looked away from him, to the fireplace. “You’re right, of course. A new bride in the neighborhood ought to be of more interest than I have been.” She sighed and put her hands in her lap, trying to remain relaxed. “I’m sorry, Marcus, if this reflects badly on you. But I don’t think your neighbors have a wish to know me.”

“Badly on me?” he repeated, sounding shocked. She glanced up to see his eyebrows high on his forehead and his mouth hanging slightly open. “I am not the least worried about myself, Ellen. I am concerned for how my neighbors’ behavior has made you feel. I have reason to believe you are being slighted, and I cannot allow that. You are my wife. Under my protection.”

Despite the uncomfortable nature of the topic, Ellen smiled. “It’s nothing, Marcus. I’m a stranger, and not a very interesting one. People will get used to me in time.”

He repeated her again, much to her amusement. “Used to you?” Marcus continued to gape at her.

“Yes. In time.” Ellen shrugged, doing her best to convey that this didn’t bother her. Not much, anyway. “When we have more in common.”

Marcus moved to the end of his chair, his elbows on his knees as his hands took up hers. “Ellen.” The softness with which he spoke her name nearly made her sigh. But his eyes were boring into hers again, with a gentle intensity. “You have a great deal in common with the ladies here.”

Ellen squeezed his hands and shook her head. “Not really. I don’t move in their circles, so I don’t understand their gossip. I have no idea of the history existing between them, of who likes who and who only tolerates another. And what do I know of the events they speak of? They talk of balls, concerts, and the theater of London. My experiences in Bath are inferior. I am newly married, so I cannot speak much about that life. I have no children, which eliminates another topic of conversation. And I hardly think anyone of your acquaintance would care to hear about my interest in botany, literature, or the sciences.”

“I find those things interesting,” he said. “I see no reason why others would find such topics of conversation lacking.”

“Marcus. I am sorry if it pains you to have an unpopular wife, but…” She shrugged and looked down at her lap, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face. “I have always been quiet and I am used to keeping my own company. I don’t mind. One grows accustomed to such things. Why else would I have never received an offer of marriage?”

Marcus’s hands brought hers together, holding them safely in his warm grasp. She reveled in his touch, even though she knew she ought to withdraw.

“Ellen.” He took in a deep breath and sighed, which made her curious enough to peek up at him, trying to ascertain his level of upset. It surprised her to see not disappointment but concern etched into his face. “I haven’t any idea why Bath is full of imbeciles, but I am wholly grateful no other man was intelligent enough to see what a wonderful wife you would make. If I am pained by what is going on in my neighborhood, it’s because I don’t wish to see you disappointed. And I know you are, even with your denials.”

Ellen’s eyes prickled as tears formed behind them, but she determined to smile. “How would you know that, Marcus?”

He retained her hands in his left, but reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze never faltering. Her breath stilled.

“I can see it in your eyes. I’ve heard it in your voice. As happy as we are in each other’s company, I know you wish for friendship. It’s my fault, not yours, that they are standoffish.”

Ellen did not realize she had been holding her breath until her lungs began to ache. She bit her lip and looked away, her thoughts muddled.

Marcus stood and went to the fire, clasping his hands behind him. “We will make this season a grand one for you, Ellen. We will attend balls, concerts, the theater, and walk the park in the fashionable hours. I will introduce you to everyone I know of importance. By the end of the season, the jealous pea hens will be falling all over themselves to claim you as an acquaintance.” He looked over his shoulder at her, his teasing grin back in place. “And you might even enjoy yourself.”

She managed a smile, though she felt some uncertainty over the plan. “I thought your intentions were to stay in town for a short while. To come back here and see to the estate.”

He shook his head dismissively, turning to face her. “I can return from time to time and receive reports from our steward.” He squared his shoulders and raised his brow in a lofty manner. “I made you a promise, Ellen. I promised I would be a good husband to you. This is one of the ways I am doing that. I will see to your happiness.”

Ellen appreciated the thought, but in her heart, she knew it could not make her happy, to pull him from the work which meant so much to him. For what? The sake of her feelings over the spiteful behavior of a few women? Ellen could get along without them very well. Her letters to Marianne helped and she felt certain Mrs. Banner would be a good friend before long.

“I have been invited to visit Mrs. Banner tomorrow afternoon. Would that suit your plans?”

“Of course, weather permitting. I have had a few farmers tell me they expect a storm any day now. How they know, I cannot understand, but I trust their judgment.” He came back to his seat and fell into it. “I’m glad you and Mrs. Banner like each other.”

She offered a brief nod and then took up the book they had been reading together. “One chapter before we retire?” she asked.

He nodded and closed his eyes, relaxing in his chair. “Yes. Let’s continue with the Irish.”

Ellen found her place and began to read in her best voice, her tones rising and lowering as the emotion of the story called for, and before long Marcus was sitting forward, as engrossed in the story as she.

¤

Sarah made certain Ellen’s cloak was warm, fussing over her wellbeing enough to make Ellen feel coddled. But her husband did not emerge from his study to bid her farewell, nor did she know if she ought to interrupt him to take her leave of the house.