The Lovers (Echoes From The Past) Read online

  “Well, why else, then? I know you owe him a great deal of money, but why would he want me to offset the debt? He hardly knows me.”

  Elise could see her father striving for patience as he considered his answer. His eyes softened as he took in her flushed face and anxious eyes. He loved her, she knew that, but he’d always been a bit gruff when it came to expressing his feelings.

  “Elise,” he began, “your mother and I had a happy union, and perhaps seeing our affection for each other has—shall we say—distorted your expectations of marriage somewhat. Few men of Lord Asher’s class marry for love. They choose suitable women who will provide them with heirs to the estate. If they want love, they take a mistress.”

  “But, I’m not suitable,” Elise countered. “I bring no noble title or wealth to the table. I’m just a simple girl.”

  “You bring youth and beauty, which is what I think Lord Asher desires at this stage of his life. He not only has a title but the ear of the king. He also has tremendous wealth; he doesn’t need your money. Perhaps a simple girl is all he wants, not one of the painted ladies of the court who change lovers like they change gowns,” her father suggested with a pained expression on his face.

  “You mean he wants an unspoiled, unworldly virgin.”

  “Don’t be vulgar, Elise,” Hugh retorted as the carriage pulled up to the house. “Every man desires a virgin, and it’s his right as a husband to expect one. You should be pleased that a man of Lord Asher’s stature has chosen you for his bride. Now, I’ll hear no more about this. You will marry Edward Asher next week, and you will be happy to do so.”

  With that, Hugh descended from the carriage and walked away, his shoulders straight and his gait purposeful. Elise stared at her father’s back, suddenly resentful. She’d never known him to be harsh, but then again, she’d never really questioned his judgment before. If she had hoped to gain sympathy or understanding, she now knew that she wouldn’t get either. Her father had already said good-bye to her in his heart. She was no longer his to love.

  Chapter 8

  Elise gazed around the crowded hall but heard nothing, save a steady buzz of conversation that washed over her without leaving an impression. She felt utterly detached, as if she were underwater or someone peering through a window at a riotous gathering, able only to see, but not hear, the people within. Lord Asher’s guests were eating, drinking, and making merry, their faces flushed with the heat from the roaring fire and the spiced wine that had been liberally consumed over the past few hours. Course after course of various delicacies had been brought out and cleared away, the sweetmeats still to come. Hugh de Lesseps sat to the left of Elise’s new husband, his countenance one of satisfaction at a job well done. His daughter was married, his livelihood protected, and his family once again solvent. He’d barely even looked at Elise since arriving at the church that afternoon, and he walked her to the altar without so much as a fatherly kiss of blessing.

  They’d hardly spoken all week; her father locked himself in his study for hours on end while Elise spent the time she had left with her sisters. Much to their chagrin, they had not been permitted to attend the wedding supper since it was held in Lord Asher’s home, and the girls were too young to be presented in adult company. The de Lesseps’s servants brought Amy and Anne to the church to witness their sister’s wedding ceremony but then took the crying children back to Southwark despite their desperate pleas. Normally, the wedding supper would be hosted by the bride’s father, but Edward had made his own plans and made no mention of Hugh inviting any of his own friends or relatives, effectively cutting out every one of his acquaintance. Hugh bristled at this injustice, but when Elise brought it up, he snapped at her as if she were at fault and not her future husband.

  “You don’t seriously expect all those noble ladies and gentlemen to cross the river to Southwark, do you?” her father demanded, annoyed with Elise for broaching the subject. All he could do was put on a smile and attend with good grace. Elise didn’t know anyone present except for her father, and at that moment, she wasn’t sure she even knew him.

  Elise sat next to Lord Asher, her face frozen into an expression of false happiness, desperate for the supper to be over and equally terrified that it should end. She felt as if she’d accidentally stumbled onto a theater stage during a play and found herself among the company of actors who went on with their performance as if she weren’t there. She stood there, rooted to the stage, unable to leave but not part of the scene being played out all around her, the inevitability of what was to come in the final act hanging over her like an executioner’s blade. She wasn’t the first bride to fear her wedding night, she knew that, but that didn’t make what was to come any easier.

  Perchance it was best to just get it over with—the dread in the pit of her stomach was probably worse than the act itself. Everyone survived the ordeal, and so would she, and she’d learn to accept it as part of her marriage. Some women even grew to like it, or so she’d been told by Rose, the impudent maid who was likely speaking from experience—and the only person Elise could confide in since her mother died. She would miss Rose. She hadn’t been allowed to bring her into the Asher household, but it made Elise feel marginally better to know that Rose would look after her sisters and care for them.

  Elise was almost relieved when Lord Asher’s mother, who’d barely said two words to her since meeting her that afternoon, motioned for her to say goodnight to her guests and retire upstairs. Elise blushed furiously when she heard the lewd whispers and guffaws of laughter, but she smiled prettily, executed a graceful curtsy, and hastily left the hall. She had no idea how long it would take her husband to actually come to her, but being alone in their bridal chamber was preferable to being displayed like a curiosity.

  “Good evening, yer ladyship. Me name is Lucy,” a young girl mumbled as she sprang from her seat in the corner. She looked sleepy, probably having dozed off while waiting for her new mistress to arrive. “May I be of service?” The girl had dark hair and clear blue eyes that dominated her round face. A deep blush stained her cheeks, the result of being caught sleeping, no doubt. She was about the same age as Elise, but there was a world of difference between them. Perhaps under different circumstances they might have become friends, as she had with Rose, but social boundaries had to be maintained now that she was the wife of a nobleman.

  “Yes, if you’ll just help me undress, Lucy.”

  Lucy helped Elise out of her bodice and sleeves and untied her skirt, stepping aside to let it fall at Elise’s feet. Elise stepped out of the heap of fabric, and Lucy scooped it up and set it aside to be folded and put away in the trunk. Her movements were practiced and sure and mildly reassuring.

  “Shall I brush out yer hair, me lady?” Lucy asked. Elise nodded, unable to reply. Now that she was in her chemise, she felt even more vulnerable and scared. She sat down heavily as Lucy went to work unpinning the elaborate hairstyle that Rose had conjured up for the wedding. The hair cascaded to Elise’s shoulders in heavy waves, making her look younger and plainer.

  “Oh, ye do have beautiful hair, me lady,” Lucy said as she picked up the brush and began to gently pull it through the tangled strands. “Such a lovely color. Just like amber.”

  “Have you ever seen amber?” Elise asked. Conversation was a wonderful distraction at times, and at the moment, Elise was desperate to focus on something other than what was to come.

  “Aye. Her ladyship has a necklace made of amber and gold, crafted in Russia, of all places. It was a gift from her husband, who’d visited many foreign lands. The necklace is truly a thing of beauty, but her ladyship rarely wears jewelry these days.”

  For a brief second, Elise thought that Lucy was referring to Lady Asher, whose portrait she’d seen in the parlor, but then realized that Lucy was referring to Edward’s mother.

  “Why is that?” Elise asked.

  “I wouldn’t know, me lady. She doesn’t share confidences with the likes of me,” Lucy answered good-naturedl
y. “She is very stern and rather frightens me at times,” Lucy blurted out before realizing her mistake. She looked momentarily frightened, but Elise rushed to assure her.

  “Don’t worry, Lucy. Anything you say to me will be held in confidence. I thought Lady Asher looked rather forbidding myself.”

  Lucy smiled, her relief evident. “Me father says that I need to learn to hold me tongue. I do tend to speak out of turn sometimes, and it always gets me into trouble.”

  “You’re not in trouble, Lucy. Does Lord Asher scare you?” Elise asked carefully.

  “No, me lady. He’s a good master. He’s always mindful of the servants and never takes advantage.”

  “How do you mean?” Elise asked.

  Lucy blushed to the roots of her hair, having again said something she shouldn’t have. She opened her mouth to explain, then closed it again, like a landed fish.

  “I don’t rightly know . . .” she began.

  “You mean he doesn’t take liberties with the female servants,” Elise finished for her.

  “Aye, ma’am. That is what I meant.”

  Elise nodded in understanding. Lucy might have spoken out of turn, but it was good to know that her husband wasn’t taking willing or unwilling servants to his bed, as many other men did. Elise had begun to wonder if her own father might be bedding one of the servants, a chit named Grace who seemed to suddenly put on airs over the past few months and was showing off a new pair of shoes that she boasted were a gift from an admirer. Elise had assumed that the admirer was someone from outside the household, but she’d seen Grace blush and giggle when she saw her father in the corridor, and rather than reprimand the girl, he smiled at her in a familiar manner, his expression one of indulgence rather than annoyance.

  What a lot she had to learn about relations between men and women. Only this summer, Elise would have burned with shame at having such a thought about her father, who was deep in mourning for his wife, but she’d come to see a different, more practical side of him over the past few weeks, and all her assumptions about his character were now being put to the test. Could a man love his wife but still look for pleasure elsewhere? Was it their nature, or was it a lack of respect for the institution of marriage and their spouse? Elise heard that the court of Charles II was like a game of musical beds, but she assumed that such debauchery was limited to His Majesty’s cronies. Her father was a good and decent man who always put his wife and family first. Could it be that he was really no better than the faithless courtiers who thwarted the rules of God and man in pursuit of pleasure?

  Elise pushed aside this unwelcome thought. Her father’s personal business was his own. He wouldn’t be the first or the last man to take a mistress, especially since he was now widowed. She only hoped that the liaison with Grace had begun after and not before her mother’s death. She needed to believe that her father had been faithful and decent.

  Lucy finished brushing Elise’s hair and went to poke up the fire in the grate. “Shall I turn down the bed for you, me lady?”

  Elise looked with distaste at the massive bed that dominated the chamber. It was carved of mahogany and decorated with crimson velvet hangings embroidered with flowers and birds. She briefly wondered if Edward used this room as his bedchamber or if it had been specially prepared for the bridal couple. Elise climbed into the bed, pulled up the coverlet to her chin, and surveyed the room. She hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a second door between the fireplace and the corner of the room. It blended into the paneling, the only thing giving it away was the seam around the door that was barely visible from a different angle.

  “Where does that lead?” she asked Lucy, who was putting away her gown and shoes.

  “Oh, that leads to his lordship’s bedchamber. He prefers it to this room. ’Tis where his wife died.” Lucy looked stricken as she uttered the words, clamping her hand over her mouth. The girl really was a wealth of information, through no intention of her own.

  “I see. Is there a key?”

  Lucy blushed as she shook her head. “No, me lady. Lord Asher likes to keep that door unlocked at all times. He has the key in his possession.”

  Elise sighed. So, her husband would have access to her bedchamber whenever he wished. She supposed that was to be expected, but that she couldn’t even expect that small bit of privacy still rankled.

  “If there’s nothing else, I’ll say goodnight,” Lucy said as she sank into an awkward curtsy.

  “Good night, Lucy. Sleep well.”

  “You too, me lady,” Lucy said with an impish smile. “I hope to find ye in fine spirits come morning.”

  The girl was saucy, Elise had to admit that, but she couldn’t help smiling. She liked Lucy, and at the moment, she really needed a friend.

  Chapter 9

  Elise woke with a start. The candle had burned down, and the fire had been reduced to a heap of smoldering embers. A rosy glow illuminated the room, making everything appear dreamlike. The connecting door between her room and Edward’s was open, and a silhouette stood over the bed. Elise sat up, amazed that she’d managed to fall asleep in her state of nervous expectation. It had to be after midnight since the house was silent around her, all traces of earlier merriment gone now that the guests had departed.

  Edward pulled a new candle out of a drawer and held it to the embers until the wick caught. A little golden flame sprang to life, casting light onto his face. He had removed his wig and coat, wearing only a shirt, breeches, and hose. Edward looked disheveled, his face puffy from overindulgence in drink. Elise assumed that he was about to undress and get into bed, but instead he sat in a chair, studying her with an air of maudlin reflection, likely brought on by drunkenness. He seemed in no hurry to come to bed and just remained where he was, watching Elise, which made her shiver with apprehension.

  The door creaked, and a young man entered the chamber on silent feet. Elise stiffened at the sight of him, unsure of why he was there. He wasn’t a servant, she was sure of that. She’d seen him before today, with Edward, and then again at the church, but he hadn’t been at the supper. She expected Edward to order him to leave immediately, but her husband said nothing, amused by her reaction. He waved the young man into the room and asked him to close the connecting door. Elise turned to her husband, awaiting an explanation as her heart thumped against her breast and her breath caught in her throat.

  “My dear,” Edward began, his tone solicitous, “there is something I must share with you.”

  “My lord?” Elise’s voice shook. She had no idea what her husband was about to say, but she knew, in that instinctive way one knew things, that whatever it was, she wasn’t going to like it.

  “Some years ago, shortly after the death of my wife, I suffered a riding accident. I’d been thrown from my horse during a hunt. I’d lost the use of my legs, and the physician wasn’t sure that I would be able to walk again, given the injury to my spine.”

  “But you have recovered,” Elise pointed out, unsure of what any of this had to do with their nuptials and the presence of the man in her chamber.

  “I have recovered, yes. It took nearly a year before I was able to walk again, but I can no longer ride,” he said with a smirk, as if alluding to something else. “The injury has rendered me impotent, so I am quite unable to perform my husbandly duties.”

  Elise gaped at him. Why had he married her, then? Her father had given her to understand that Lord Asher desired a son to carry on the family name and inherit the vast estate he possessed.

  “I don’t understand,” Elise mumbled.

  Edward beckoned for the other man to come into the light. He was in his mid-twenties, with a mane of dark hair that fell to the collar of his doublet and thickly lashed eyes beneath severe dark brows. Elise couldn’t quite make out the color of his eyes, especially since the man was looking away from her, his posture rigid.

  “This is James Coleman. He’s my natural-born son,” Edward confided with a sad smile. “His mother worked here as a laundry maid wh
en she first came to London from the country. She was a very comely lass,” he added wistfully.

  “My lord, what are you trying to tell me?” Elise asked, her voice now sharp with worry.

  “What I am trying to tell you, my dear, is that James will stand in for me in the marriage bed. My blood flows in his veins, so his child will be the closest I can get to a legitimate heir.”

  “You wish me to give birth to your grandson and pass him off as your son?” Elise gasped, Edward’s meaning finally sinking into her muddled brain.

  “Now you’ve got it. I always thought you were a clever girl.”

  “That goes against the teachings of the Church,” Elise protested. “If you cannot consummate the marriage, it can still be annulled,” she cried. What Edward was proposing was scandalous.

  “And your family can still be ruined, my sweet, so think carefully of what you wish to do next. In the eyes of God and man, you’re my wife, and I can do with you as I please. You are my property. I’m only asking you to do that which you would have been expected to do anyway. The only reason you are here is because I require a legitimate male heir. Does it truly matter who plants that heir in your belly? Are you so in love with me that you can’t bear to lie with another man?” Edward asked, chuckling sarcastically. “Come now, he’s a well-made lad.”

  Elise’s eyes slid to the young man who stood silently with his back to the fireplace. He looked angry and humiliated but didn’t utter a word of protest.

  “Get on with it, James,” Edward said, tired of discussing the matter.

  “Will you not leave us alone?” James asked, speaking for the first time. He had a deep voice that Elise would have found pleasing on any other occasion.

  “It is my wedding night, after all. I intend to enjoy it to the best of my ability, and I need to make sure that you do what’s asked of you.”

  “As you wish,” James replied woodenly. He pulled something out of his pocket and set it on the small table by the bed before pulling off his boots and removing his doublet and breeches. Thankfully, he kept on his shirt. Elise felt an overwhelming sense of panic as the mattress sank beneath his weight, and tears stung her eyes as she stared imploringly at Edward, but he seemed unmoved by her plight. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, as if he were preparing to watch a play.