The Lovers (Echoes From The Past) Page 3

  Caroline de Lesseps had been a child bride, a girl of fifteen when Hugh married her, and she’d retained something of that innocence and joy, a quality he loved above all else in a woman who never aged in his eyes. She’d been only thirty-six when she died, but to him she was still the young, beautiful girl who took his breath away the first time he saw her. It had been a marriage of convenience arranged by the families of the couple, but the relationship had blossomed into one of love and respect and became a true partnership. Many men married again once the period of mourning was over, but Elise was certain that her father wouldn’t look at another woman for a long time to come, if ever. No one could replace his beautiful Caroline, and secretly she was glad.

  Hugh de Lesseps pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a terrible headache, then looked up at his daughter, his expression one of utter misery.

  “The messenger was from Lord Asher. I owe him a great deal of money since the cargo he’d paid for is now at the bottom of the sea. I am not in a position to repay him, at least not at this time. Since the sinking of the Celeste, our financial situation is dire, Elise.”

  The Celeste went down in a storm just off the coast of Jamaica in September, taking with it all her father’s precious cargo and its crew. Hugh de Lesseps owned one more ship, the Sea Nymph, but no ships crossed the Atlantic during the winter, and it would be nearly a year before Hugh saw any profit from the sale of the cargo the crew would bring back from the West Indies.

  “Is Lord Asher demanding payment?” Elise asked carefully. She had more of an education than most girls of her station and understood only too well the ramifications of losing the cargo and the vessel. Her father would need ready capital to purchase goods, which would be shipped to Jamaica and sold, the profit used to purchase Jamaican goods that would then be transported to the American colonies. A third cargo would then be loaded on the ship for the voyage back to England, the hold loaded with tobacco, furs traded from the savages, and wooden spars, which would be sold to the Navy for the building of masts. Only once the cargo was sold in England would a profit be realized and the debt to Lord Asher repaid.

  “Lord Asher has offered to allow me a grace period of two years to pay the debt, but on one condition. He wishes to take you as his bride.”

  “Me? Why? I hardly know the man,” Elise exclaimed. Lord Asher was a wealthy and powerful man who had the ear of the king and could choose any woman for his wife. Elise had neither title nor fortune, and the dowry her father had set aside for her was hardly enough to tempt a man of Asher’s wealth and position. Why would he want her?

  “Lord Asher has offered to forgo the dowry,” her father added, his expression pained. “It seems he has no need for it.”

  Elise slowly rose to her feet, her legs suddenly too wobbly to hold her up. She grasped the back of the chair for support as she faced her father. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “I’m sorry, Elise. I promised your mother that I would see you happy, but if Lord Asher calls in the debt, I will be ruined. Your brothers will lose their livelihood, and your sisters will have no dowry once they come of age. I can’t afford to refuse.”

  “I understand,” Elise breathed. She felt faint but remained standing upright, her knuckles white on the back of the chair.

  “You will be the wife of a great man. Your sons will be of noble birth, and you will be received at court. I know that Edward Asher is not your heart’s desire, but you will benefit from this union, as will your sisters. Our family will weather this crisis.”

  “Yes, Father,” Elise replied woodenly. “May I go now?”

  “Go on. You need some time to absorb this news.”

  “When does Lord Asher wish to marry?”

  “In three weeks’ time, at the New Year.”

  “That soon?” Elise willed herself not to cry, but her voice sounded shaky.

  “You will be ready.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. She would be ready; she had no choice. The bargain had been struck and she was the chattel that would be transferred as payment of debt—human cargo replacing material goods.

  Elise didn’t bother to shut the door behind her as she fled the room. She needed time alone to sort out her tumultuous feelings and prepare a story for her sisters. Amy and Anne were only thirteen and nine, too young to understand the implications of the Celeste’s sinking. They’d lost their mother less than a year ago, and now they would lose their sister as well. To show them the depth of her despair would only make the inevitable separation more difficult for them, so Elise had to put on a brave face and make them believe that this match was of her own choosing.

  Elise climbed the stairs to her room and shut the door, locking it behind her. The girls would be expecting her in the parlor, but she couldn’t bear to face them just yet. She couldn’t calmly work on her sewing when she was battling rising hysteria. In three weeks, she would be married off to a man she barely knew. Elise had met Lord Asher once when he visited her father on a matter of business. She’d seen him twice more since then, but no words had been exchanged besides a curt greeting. Lord Asher had bowed to her, his eyes never leaving her face as his lips stretched into a half-hearted smile. Elise assumed he was just being polite, although a man of his station had no obligation to be polite to the likes of her.

  Elise sat in front of the cold hearth and pulled a warm shawl about her shoulders, but it did little to warm her. She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself standing next to Edward Asher in church as a vicar bound them for eternity, giving her new husband complete control over her life. Edward Asher was an imposing man, to be sure, but old enough to be her father. He has to be at least five and forty, Elise thought miserably. She shuddered and opened her eyes. The only way to accept this new reality was to focus on the positive things about her future husband. Elise was hard-pressed to find any, but she had to, so she began with his looks.

  Lord Asher was of above-average height, and despite his age, he was still in good physical form. He didn’t run to fat, nor had he lost his hair. She supposed he wore a wig when at court, but when he’d come to visit her father, he wore his own hair, which was a rich brown with only a few strands of gray silvering the temples. His gray eyes were not unkind, and he did smile easily, which spoke of a good temperament. As far as Elise knew, he had no children, at least not ones still living.

  Elise supposed that any girl of her station would be honored to marry a man like Lord Asher, who would pluck her from complete obscurity and elevate her practically overnight to become one of the ladies of the royal court. To be wealthy and titled and received by His Majesty Charles II was the stuff of dreams for young maidens, but that had never been Elise’s aspiration. She’d never been inside the palace, but she had seen courtiers out and about, carousing in the Strand and enjoying pleasure cruises on the river. They were like peacocks, draped in yards of exquisite fabric and lace, painted like whores, and adorned with bows, ribbons, and ridiculous curly wigs, which made even the most masculine of men look like overgrown poodles. Most people gleefully accepted the new fashions when Charles II took the throne, tired as they were of the black and gray of Puritan rule that had been the order of the day for so long. The theaters had reopened, music and color burst into people’s lives with a gaiety most had forgotten, and suddenly, life was good again. Everyone, from the wealthiest nobleman to the poorest wretch, was glad to be alive.

  But now, after half a decade of excess and frivolity, the unbearable glitter of royal glamour had begun to fade, and the common people were beginning to tire of the careless spending of their new king, their lot in life still not much better than it had been during the reign of his father and the tyranny of Oliver Cromwell.

  Elise had no desire to become one of the cheap, painted ladies of the court, who indulged in sinful games, thinly veiled sexual innuendo, and provocative masques, the only purpose of which was to showcase their charms and catch the interest of a new lover. Elise was a good, Christian woman, and she wanted noth
ing more than to be like her own mother: a faithful wife and loving mother, with a husband who was loyal and devoted even after decades of marriage. And she’d come so close to achieving that dream.

  Elise had been nursing a tender affection for Gavin Talbot, her father’s clerk, for the past two years. Gavin was kind, thoughtful, and hardworking. He would never be rich, but through hard work and careful planning, he would surely be able to offer his family a comfortable living. And he was handsome. Gavin had sandy hair and wide blue eyes that shone with good humor. He’d always had a kind word and a smile for Elise, even when she was still a young girl and beyond his notice. Now that she was a woman of seventeen, Gavin was in his mid-twenties and ready to start his own family. No betrothal had taken place, but there was an understanding between them that with her father’s permission, they would marry once the year of mourning for her mother was over. Elise had never spoken to her father of her feelings for Gavin, but she was sure he knew. Hugh de Lesseps was an observant man, a man who was a devoted father to his girls, and who, she believed, genuinely wished for their happiness. He would have consented had this catastrophe not struck their family, Elise was sure of it.

  And now Gavin was as far removed from her as the moon. Her father had a debt to repay, and she was the currency. There was no one else. Elise bit her lip to keep from crying. She had no choice. If she refused, her father and brothers would be ruined, and her sisters would have no chance of a respectable marriage. It was her duty to honor her father’s wishes and make a good marriage that would benefit the whole family. Few girls had the luxury of choosing their own husbands, and even fewer had expectations of a happy marriage. Lord Asher would be good to her, and she would want for nothing. Perhaps she could even help Amy and Anne make an advantageous match when the time came.

  Elise sprang to her feet when she heard footsteps outside her door and the excited voices of her sisters. She forced a smile onto her face just as the two girls burst into the room. “Father says there’s to be a wedding,” Amy exclaimed. “Oh, that’s so exciting. I can’t wait until I am a bride.” She sighed dramatically and did a little pirouette.

  “Father says there’s to be dancing and a great feast. Do say we can come, Elise,” Amy pleaded.

  “You’ll have to ask Father. You two are too young to attend, but perhaps you can watch from the gallery, if the wedding is to be held here.”

  Amy continued to perform dance steps as she gazed at herself in the cheval glass, but Anne stood quietly by the door, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. She was the more sensitive of the two and had taken their mother’s death very hard. Her grief was still as fresh as it had been when their mother breathed her last, and Elise worried how she would cope once her big sister was gone. Amy was too young and frivolous to give her sister the support she so sorely needed.

  “You’re going to leave us,” Anne whispered as she ran to Elise and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Oh, what are we going to do without you?” she said and began to sob.

  “Come now, Annie. It won’t be so bad. I’ll be a great lady, and you might be able to visit me in my house across the river. Just think of it.”

  Anne’s eyes grew round with wonder. She’d never been across the river. There was no call for the girls to leave their house in Southwark; everything they needed was right there. But Lord Asher lived in the Strand, where Elise’s new home would be. She’d never seen Lord Asher’s house, but she’d heard her father speak of it. Grand, it was, he said, and well appointed, with tapestries on the walls, carpets on the floors, and fine furnishings. There were many servants: maids, cooks, grooms, and gardeners. Perhaps Hugh de Lesseps viewed this turn of events as fortuitous. Elise only wished she could bring herself to feel the same.

  Chapter 4

  Elise woke every morning with an ever-increasing feeling of dread. A week had passed since the discussion with her father, but she had yet to see either Gavin or her betrothed. She strongly suspected that her father had sent Gavin away under some pretense or other. Gavin was frequently away for several weeks at a time, undertaking tasks that were too menial or arduous for her father. Hugh de Lesseps was no fool; he needed to make sure that the wedding went off as planned and that his daughter was still a maid on her wedding night. Giving herself to Gavin only weeks before her wedding would ensure that if she got with child, her husband would be none the wiser should the babe not be his. Elise had to admit that she felt a frisson of anger at the thought. She might have feelings for Gavin, but she was a woman who valued her honor and would never disgrace herself or her father in that way. Elise and Gavin had shared a few tender kisses, but it never went further than that. Their affection for each other was pure and true, and the fact that Gavin never tried anything untoward with her was a mark of his love and respect.

  Elise forced herself to throw off the covers and took a resolute breath before stepping onto the chilly floorboards. Her feet burned with cold as she hastily washed, dressed, and brushed her hair. She was shivering by the time she pulled on her woolen stockings and shoved her feet into her shoes, which were no warmer than the floor. She turned to go downstairs, where at least a fire was lit and it was a few degrees above freezing. She’d stop by the kitchen to discuss the day’s menu with Cook and warm herself by the hearth. Elise was glad that her sisters, at least, had a fire in their room. Anne had a weak chest, so it was imperative to keep her warm at all times. When their father instituted the new economies, dispensing with fire in the girls’ room never entered his thoughts.

  Elise gathered her shawl about her shoulders for added warmth and turned toward the door, suddenly catching her reflection in the cheval glass. She looked pale and melancholy, her eyes large in her unsmiling face. What did Lord Asher see in her? She stood before the mirror and stared at her reflection. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how much she resembled her mother. She had the same sky-blue eyes and fair skin dusted with tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose. The same full mouth and high cheekbones. But her mother’s hair had been a deep auburn, whereas Elise’s was more of a pale red. It looked bright and coppery during the summer months, but right now it was lackluster and made her appear even paler than she already was. She was small and slight, with a high bosom and a tiny waist.

  It was a blessing really that she looked so childish since to look her age would remind people that she was seventeen and not yet married. Most girls her age were already wed and had a child or two, but Hugh de Lesseps needed his eldest to care for her mother when she was ill and look after the two girls until they were somewhat recovered from the loss of their mother. It would be a year since Caroline de Lesseps died in February, so Gavin had planned to ask her father for her hand in marriage at Christmastime, but the sinking of the Celeste put paid to that. And now she was to wed Lord Asher. Elise sighed. Her mother always said that life had its own plan, and Elise supposed this was it. No one said she had to like it.

  Going to the kitchen lifted her spirits somewhat. The cavernous room was blessedly warm, and the aroma of baking bread and beef broth made her mouth water. She’d had a terrible headache last night and had barely eaten any supper, retiring to bed with a hot brick instead, so now she was ravenous.

  “Good morrow, mistress,” Cook called out as she extracted fresh loaves from the nook on the side of the hearth. “Can I offer you some breakfast? The master has broken his fast already, and the girls are still abed.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Elise took a seat on the long bench and gratefully accepted a cup of hot broth and a hunk of bread smeared with bacon drippings. She bit into the food, momentarily content. It was a long time till dinner; the sky outside hadn’t even begun to lighten. It’d be another hour at least until sunrise, and Elise would have to make the most out of the few winter daylight hours to work on her trousseau. Her father had called in their mother’s seamstress to make her a gown for the wedding that wouldn’t shame her intended, but the rest had to be improvised. Elise hated going through
her mother’s things, but her father pointed out that her mother would have been glad to see her gowns put to good use. Caroline de Lesseps had a good eye for fashion, and her gowns, although elaborate and richly adorned as fashion demanded, were not gaudy or exceedingly low cut.

  Elise spent the previous day altering a peacock-blue silk gown, a favorite of her mother’s. It had taken her nearly all day since the stitches had to be tiny, even, and cleverly disguised in the embroidered pattern of the rich fabric. Elise was a few inches shorter than her mother had been, and thinner. Caroline had looked much as Elise had in her youth, but six pregnancies had filled out her bosom and expanded her waist. The bodice needed to be taken in, and the waist tightened so that there would be no extra fabric gathered at the back when the laces were tied. At least the sleeves fit well.

  After breakfast, Elise selected another gown to alter and settled in a settee by the window. Once the sun was up, the room would be bathed in bright winter light, and she wouldn’t need to waste any candles. Natural light was easier to see by, and hopefully she would be finished before the first candles of the evening needed to be lit. She ran her fingers over the claret velvet as she held the gown up and brought it to her nose. It still smelled of her mother, and the familiar scent brought tears to her eyes. “Mama, what would you make of all this?” she whispered into the folds of the sleeve. “What advice would you give me? Did you feel so frightened before you married Father?”

  Elise wished she could hear her mother’s voice in her mind, even if the answer was one of her own conjuring, but all she heard was a deafening silence. Anne said that Mother spoke to her, but Elise had had no communication, not even a dream. It was as if their mother had forsaken her, deeming her too mature to need such comfort. Or perhaps, Elise didn’t really believe that her mother’s spirit was still with them, as her father kept telling the younger girls. Caroline was gone, taking her love, support, and warmth with her and leaving Elise in a vacuum of sadness.