The Rogue She Loved by Ella Edon
Chapter Three
For the first time in what felt like a very long time indeed Elise looked through the carriage window as it passed through the tall iron gates of the place she called home. The carriage swayed, rocking back and forth against the countryside roads before settling out as they hit the main road to lead to London.
She glanced at Henrietta scarcely able to contain her excitement. “I can barely believe this is happening.”
Henrietta smiled and inclined her head. “It most certainly is, my lady.”
The countryside was inarguably beautiful but years confined to its simple majesty had made Elise hungry for a different kind of beauty. The beauty of bustle and activity. It was said that there was in London, everything that life could afford. Elise wanted to immerse herself completely in all that London had to offer in the knowledge that it might be her only opportunity to enjoy its singular charm. Her father had made it clear before she left that he had every intention of holding her to her promise and Elise could have no doubt that a marriage match would be settled by the next time she rode through those tall iron gates to her Hertfordshire home.
She felt at that moment a sharp jolt of regret. While she was pleased with the decision she had made, there was some tragedy in it. Deep down, she had always kept the dream of being married to a man who loved her as deeply and dearly as she loved him. To live a life ensconced in the security of a deep connection with a loving husband with sense, goodness and imagination. The chances of that were now slim to none. Whoever her father picked would be selected on the basis of business expediency with little consideration for his suitability as a love match for her. So be it, she resolved.
It was a sour thing to swallow. Her parents had given her a glimpse at just how magnificent love could be. Her mother was a kind woman, with special grace. Of the memories Elise had, she could distinctly remember her mother’s most enduring words: ‘Love is what makes the ride worthwhile’. Those words had taken on a real and evident meaning to Elise, even as a child. Never was her father more handsome, more congenial or more impressive in countenance than when he was in the presence of the late Lady Hammington. Theirs had always been the perfect picture of true affection.
The phantom of their love still haunted the house. Haunted her father most of all. When her mother had died, a part of her father had gone completely cold and Elise thought his warmth would never return. Even still, there was something Elise found beautiful about her father’s enduring grief. It was an homage to their undying love and proof that she still reserved a sacred place in his heart. That was what Elise wanted. To love and be loved in return. Deeply and vigorously. Now it seemed that desire would never be fulfilled.
She frowned deeply and stared out the carriage window. For this grand adventure she had paid a steep price but she would extract every benefit from the trip. If the price to pay was to be trapped in a marriage of convenience instead of to be embalmed in a love match, she had to ensure she made the trip one to remember; to hold on to memories when her marital bed was cold.
The first part of their journey passed with little to no report. Hertfordshire occupied a position of great approbation in her heart but her desire to be in London made their ride through the countryside tedious and uninspiring. Real curiosity began as they encroached upon the main road to London.
The landscape began to slowly change. Cottages and grass-strewn pathways gave way to terraced houses and stone-paved streets. Soon they were well and truly in London and Elise stared out with wide-eyed awe. It was plain that Londoners were an especially peculiar people. They were dressed in a most wonderful fashion; more formal than most people in Hertfordshire, but possessed of easy grace and nonchalance at their formality. Watching them was like watching a great intricate dance performance. Never before had she seen so many people all in one place and they all seemed so wonderfully at home in this grand metropolis.
She looked to Henrietta and beamed. “It’s wonderful.”
Henrietta didn’t seem quite so impressed but still offered her acquiescence. “Indeed it is, my Lady.”
After winding along a smooth, serpentine road for just over a mile, they reached a grand a cobblestoned carriageway where the houses were particularly grand. Large terraced houses and manicured garden squares blurred past as they drove by. At the end of the road they reached a large green court with a tall iron double-gate. Never in Elise’s life had she seen a gate so large and grand. It was built as though to admit war chariots, five at a time.
Elise could do nothing but stare. So wrapped up in her awe was she that she barely realised that this was the address of their destination.
“My goodness,” she breathed, staring up.
Andrews Manor was nothing short of a masterpiece. Beyond the giant gates was a grand manor built with polished Portland stone set on rich, fertile grounds with lakes, gardens and trees full with fruit. She had known that the earldom of Chester was very rich indeed but this was more than mere wealth. It was an exultation of beauty the likes of which could only have been made possible with a person of good taste and greater means.
The gates stuttered open to admit their carriage and as their coachman drew rein at the end of the carriageway, the doors to the manor opened.
A tall man, dressed in what could only have been a butler’s uniform approached the carriage with a hurried step.
He bowed as they alighted from the carriage. “My Lady, you are most welcome to Andrew Manor. My name is Mr. Clarkson, I am the butler here and would do all within my power to make your stay a most pleasant one.”
Elise curtsied and smiled. “Thank you for your kind welcome. This is Mrs. Dashford, my lady’s maid.”
Mr. Clarkson inclined his head politely. “My great pleasure, Mrs. Dashford. May I show you to Lady Andrews.”
Elise nodded. “Yes please, Mr. Clarkson.”
He led them into the house and Elise found that her awe was not lessened.
For a home, Elise could scarcely imagine a person wanting more than Andrews House had to offer. The ceilings were high and decorated with rosette murals and every room had large windows admitting sunlight. They came at last to a wooden door, where the sound of someone practicing the pianoforte could be heard through the walls.
Mr. Clarkson knocked on the door and the playing ceased.
“Who is it?” Came a voice.
Elise immediately recognised the voice and smiled.
“Your guests have arrived Lady Andrews.”
A moment of silence passed, and the door flew open.
“My dearest Elise,” Amy exclaimed with arms outstretched, “oh, it is so good to see you in London at last!”
Elise embraced her good friend with a warm smile. “Oh Amy, it is so good to see you too. I have wished for so long to visit you in London and now the day has finally come.”
Amy had always been a pretty girl but in the time they had spent apart she had blossomed into quite a singular beauty. Slender, with a dark-complexion, and hair the colour of oil that shimmered and glistened whenever the light touched it.
She was the very best friend Elise had. Sensible and clever; but amiable in everything. They had met in Manchester, at a school for young ladies, just over two years past. Their connection had been both instant and unrelenting. Amy’s generosity of spirit and coolness of judgement was the perfect counterweight to Elise’s eagerness of mind and want of adventure. While Amy had a tendency towards circumspection and shyness she took great delight in Elise’s appetite for an escapade and boldness. They had endeared themselves to one another very quickly at school and with each passing day had become closer friends than the last.
“I didn’t know that Andrews Manor was so,” Elise hesitated finding the words, “grand,” she decided.
Amy blanched. “My dear brother has managed the home well, come, let me show you around.”
Elise glanced up at the intricate mural painting on the ceiling. It depicted a beatific scene with angels resting on clouds. Fitting, she thought, for this was a home approaching paradise.
“Please, let me show you around,” Amy said, taking Elise by the arm.
She led Elise at first into a drawing room with paintings which hung from the wall. Elise quickly discerned that the paintings were of members of the Andrews family as they all bore similarities in manner and likeness. One painting captured Elise’s attention more than any other. It was of a young couple, both strikingly attractive with the sort of elegance that could not be curtailed even in a portrait. The lady in the picture was the near facsimile of Amy, only older, with flatter cheeks and more arresting eyes. Elise did not have to ask to know it was Amy’s mother and father.
Amy had lost her parents a few years ago in a tragic carriage accident and Elise knew that her friend still carried a great deal of pain there, so she asked no questions and turned to a subject of lighter emotion.
“The roads here are so well paved,” she said.
Amy gave a small smile. “Yes, our groundsman is very careful with all our roads. After our parents…,” her sentence trailed off and for a moment she was silent, gathering herself. “Tell me about your trip dear Elise, I do hope the rest of the road was not too rough.”
Elise smiled. “The trip was a pleasant one, the roads were gentle, and the weather was always agreeable.”
“We’ve been having good weather of late,” Amy said. “The very best of the Season is when the weather is just as it is now.”
Elise gave her friend a knowing smile. “This is all so exciting! I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all the wonderful balls and events to come. I cannot wait.”
“You needn’t wait long, Lord Grenfell has promised to start the Season with a ball in three days’ time and it promises to be a brilliant evening. Lord Grenfell is known for throwing the very best parties.”
“That’s wonderful. Oh tell me what it’s like Amy, I’ve never been to a ball.”
Amy adopted a thoughtful look. “Well, this is my second Season and I’m not quite so pretty as you so I haven’t had the best of the dancing and courting but there is wonderful music and fine food.”
Elise took her friend by the hand. “I don’t think I have ever known a more beautiful woman in countenance and character than you and any young gentleman would be wildly fortunate to have the pleasure of dancing with you. For whatever affliction of the eyes and mind that may have besieged the gentlemen at your first Season, I am certain they would now be entirely cured and that your dance card will be full of invitations.”
Amy brushed her friend’s elbow playfully. “You always know how to make me feel ten feet tall!”
“That’s how you look to me.”
Amy formed a thin line with her lips. “Come, there’s something I want to show you.”
She led Elise down the corridor to a large double door painted an ominous black. She held the door open for Elise and she stepped inside.
Elise exclaimed as she realised what the room was. “Goodness.”
It was the finest library that Elise perhaps had ever seen. Shelf after shelf of books on every matter from poetry to pottery. At the centre of the room was a painted wooden table with a large book at the centre. Elise twirled around the room noting the many titles she had long hoped to read in her life.
“I know you are quite fond of books and thought you might like to read, when we are not otherwise engaged with the affairs of the Season. I had the table altered to allow more leg room for long reading.”
Elise tested it out and smiled. “Thank you.” She noticed the book at the centre of the table which had a bookmark at the centre most pages. She picked the book up and read the title out aloud. “Lyrical Ballads by William Wordsworth.” She smiled at her friend. “I never took you for a lover of poetry Amy.”
Amy examined the book. “I wasn’t the one reading that. Perhaps it was my brother.”
Amy had spoken only occasionally about her brother, but Elise had never met him. She had heard some news of his reputation at her time at school. He was said to be a rake with a large appetite for licentiousness. Certainly not the type of man to read poetry.
“Is he in town, your brother?” Elise asked.
Amy nodded. “He is. He’s just away on business at the minute but he is sure to return.”
Elise raised an eyebrow then looked over the book again.
She placed it back on the shelf with the other books of poetry. “Perhaps one of the servants forgot to replace it,” Elise offered.
Amy shrugged. “Perhaps.”
After a few minutes of perusing the inventory of their library, Elise was at last shown to her room for her time at Andrews Manor.
It was - as was the rest of the manor—beautiful. A large bed, fit for two with soft pillows, cushions and bedcovers loomed at the edge of the room. A gold-plated dressing table with an ornamented looking glass was stationed just to the side. The window was almost as wide as the wall with satin curtains bunched up at the sides.
She fell back into her bed and closed her eyes. This is going to be the best three weeks of my life.
