“Allan and I are betrothed,” she said. “It was all decided before we left for home. The official announcements are to be made as soon as he has spoken with you and Edmund, Mama. He does not have to do so, of course, because I reached my majority long ages ago, but he is going to do so anyway. Wish me happy?” She smiled brightly and a little uncertainly around the room.
Lord Amberley got to his feet again and put an arm about her shoulders. “You look quite happy enough already, dear,” he said. “And of course I have never wanted anything else but your happiness. If you have decided upon Penworth, then he is a fortunate man.”
“I could not have said it better myself,” the dowager said, beaming at her daughter.
“Where is he?” Lady Amberley asked. “When are we to meet him? If I had only known back in the spring that he was to be your husband, Madeline, I would have taken far more notice. I can picture only a very young man in scarlet regimentals.”
Madeline glanced at her twin, and he smiled and stretched out a hand to her.
“The journey was a great ordeal for him,” she said. “I don’t think I stopped talking for a single moment all the way from Dover. I was trying to keep his mind from his own discomfort and pain. We went straight to Mr. Foster’s, and then I came here. It feels strange to be without him after so many months.” She looked again at her brother, rather uncertainly, and took his hand.
“If you are happy, Mad,” he said, “then I am too. Are you satisfied now?”
She nodded.
“Well,” the Earl of Amberley said, seating himself next to his wife, “we might as well enjoy this unusual interlude of brother-and-sister amity, Alex. I am sure the two of them will be at each other’s throats before another day has passed, and we will know that all is back to normal.”
The dowager rang the bell to summon the tea tray.
“Now,” Madeline said brightly, “I want everyone to tell me everything that has happened since I saw you last. Everything. Have the children grown, Alexandra? And will Caroline smile yet for anyone but Edmund?”
“She was very uncertain when he came home from Brussels after such a long absence,” the countess said with a smile. “But seeing Christopher launch himself onto Edmund’s back and me clinging to one of his arms must have reassured her. She gave him the smile I had not seen for weeks. It really is not fair, is it? Who feeds the child, after all?”
“It is just that she recognizes a handsome man when she sees one,” the earl said.
Although there was so much to say, so many questions to be asked and answered, they all recognized that Madeline was very tired. Half an hour later she was climbing the stairs to her rooms, her arm linked through her twin’s.
“How are you, Dom?” she asked as she closed the door of her sitting room behind them.
“As you see.” He spread his arms to the sides. “As good as new, Mad. And in civilian clothes, you will be delighted to observe.”
“I am.” She crossed the room and patted the lapels of his coat. “And it is just as well for you that you are. I would declare open warfare on you if you had not sold out already.”
“Ooh,” he said, grinning. “A narrow escape indeed.”
“What I meant to ask,” she said, “was how are you? I mean really, Dom.”
“You are asking me about Ellen Simpson,” he said. “I was planning to call on her this afternoon. For the first time, and because I promised Charlie that I would look after the two of them if there were need. I have not seen her since Brussels, Mad. It is all over. It was just an unreal episode from a time of great crisis. Sweet at the time, but best forgotten.” He smiled.
“Was it?” she said sadly. “But it seemed so real at the time. You looked so very happy. What happened, Dom?”
“We both woke up,” he said. “That is what happened. It was inevitable.” He shrugged. “It was no big thing. It only seemed so at the time. There is one thing I must know about you. Did Penworth ask you to marry him, or did you ask him?”
She blushed and giggled. “You could not expect him to ask me,” she said. “He still does not particularly want to live, except that now I think he has realized that he must do so whether he wants to or not. He certainly does not think he has any worth left as a man. He is unwilling for anyone to see him. And he won’t go home to Devon. He cannot face the pity of his family, he says. All absurd, of course. I shall talk him out of it all eventually. It will take time.”
“So you asked him,” he said. “Do you love him, Mad? Or is it pity?”
“I love him,” she said. “He has filled my whole world for three months, Dom. I can’t imagine life without him now. You are not going to be difficult, are you, just because he has lost a leg and an eye?”
“No, I am not going to be difficult.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently back and forth. “You are as old and as wise as I, which is not saying a great deal, I suppose. But if you say you can be happy with Penworth, then I daresay you can be. And all I can do is repeat what I said downstairs. If you are happy, then so am I.”
She hugged him hard and rested her head on his broad shoulder. “Oh, Dom,” she said, “it is so very good to be home. So good to have you alive and safe at last. And I am so tired. I feel as if I have not slept for months.”
“Don’t fall asleep on my shoulder, then,” he said. “I’m sure your bed will be far more comfortable. Stand up now, or sit down if you will, and I will ring for a maid.”
Madeline yawned loudly and inelegantly and sat down hard on a chaise longue.
ELLEN WAS SITTING DOWNSTAIRS in the morning room finishing off a letter to her friend Mrs. Cleary, who was still in Paris. She had the house to herself apart from the servants. Dorothy and Jennifer had gone out soon after breakfast, in order to accompany the Emery ladies to the library and the shops.
She and her stepdaughter were both recovering their spirits, she had just written to her friend. Her husband had left her an independence, and she hoped soon to buy herself a cottage somewhere in the country and move there. She was not sure about Jennifer. The girl might stay with her aunt. Or perhaps she would move to her grandfather’s house.
Nothing was as certain as that in reality, of course. Dorothy had said no more about the visit to Sir Jasper Simpson. Perhaps she never would. Perhaps Charlie’s father would refuse to receive Jennifer, even if that meant that he could not meet his son’s widow either.
But Ellen was determined that matters would not be left at that. She had made a promise to Charlie, and she was going to keep it. His father would not reject them if appealed to, Charlie had said. Well, if necessary, she would go to Sir Jasper herself-not to take tea, but to plead with him to accept his granddaughter. If he had really loved his son, as Dorothy claimed, and if he truly grieved for him now, then surely he could not refuse to meet the daughter whom Charlie had loved, even if there really could be any doubt about her birth.
She would allow one more week to pass. If Dorothy had not said anything more in that time, then Ellen would take action herself. She felt better having decided so. She felt as if she were coming back to life after a long time. She reached for the blotter and carefully dried the ink on her letter.
She had taken action on something else too. She had told Dorothy the day before about the child. She had been feeling unusual tiredness during the days, and frequently felt nauseated and dizzy in the mornings. She needed to tell someone. She had told no lies. She had said nothing about the baby’s paternity and had said merely that it was expected sometime early in the following spring. She had not told the truth either, of course.
Dorothy had been overjoyed, and had hugged her and kissed her and laughed and shed tears.
“Oh, I am so very happy,” she had said. “I have hoped for it ever since Charlie married you, Ellen. And now it has happened just when it seemed too late. I am so very happy for you. But have you seen a physician?”