Page 4 of Lady Elinor’s Elf
She had to be a little “simple”, he thought was the correct word to use. It was the only logical solution. She had inventedor imagined herself at a London ball, and made herself the heroine of the hour. And then related the tale to an invisible friend, pretending to be the other voice?
Caleb had spent a good portion of the afternoon puzzling over what he’d seen and heard, and it was still on his mind as he shrugged into his jacket and headed down to the small parlour he favoured for his meals when at the Abbey alone.
“Your dinner awaits, my Lord,” Baglan Deryn bowed gracefully as his master came downstairs to the hall.
“Deryn, you are a gift from the Gods. I could definitely eat a horse, since I worked up an appetite clearing away what felt like half a forest.” He wriggled his shoulders. “Still does.”
The tall man, who was at least a head above his master, merely nodded. “Exercise is always good for the mind and the body, sir. As you well know.”
“Indeed.”
“However, you will be pleased to know that there is nothing equine on this evening’s menu.”
Caleb grinned. “You relieve me.”
He took his seat at the small table and sniffed. “Well, whatever it is, it smells wonderful. Please tell Mrs Deryn once again that if she decides to leave you, I shall wed her in an instant for her cooking alone.”
He took a piece of warm bread and let Deryn serve him some soup, both of which were—as always—delicious. “Mmm”. He nodded and smiled. “Good.”
“She will be pleased to hear your sentiments, sir.” The butler offered a few letters.
“As always, the delivery of any communication seems to only take place when that lazy lad in the village feels like indulging himself in a stroll.” He sighed.
“However, these letters arrived earlier. If you would like to read them now? Or I can put them by the fire in your study…”
“I might as well look at them now. If any contain matters which might put me off my meal, I’ll be sure to leave those well enough alone.”
“Very good, sir.” Deryn bowed himself out.
Caleb glanced at the small pile of letters as he finished his soup.
He could have enjoyed another bowl, but his nose told him there was a fresh pork pie waiting for him, and perhaps roasted potatoes as well.
So he rummaged beneath the covered dishes, and settled back into his chair with a substantial meal on his plate.
Glancing to his side, he could see that the top two letters bore the marks of a familiar source.
J. Worthy although I believe, in all fairness, that it is highly unlikely to be her fault.
But the fact remains that she perpetrated some violent behaviour on dear Sir Mortimer Hackenby.
His face was quite reddened, and his clothes sorely damaged by his encounter with some brambles, I understand .
Caleb couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, Mama, if I’m right in what I’m thinking, they were roses.” He read on.
Of course, the girl has all but ruined her reputation, if she even had one to begin with.
Quiet little mouse, not unpleasant to the eye, and well-dressed, but even being the daughter of a Marquess cannot rescue her from this shocking scrape.
Her parents are abroad, I understand, and she is residing in town at the home of one of her brothers.
That is to say, she did, but of course she has had to leave town after this scandal.
A shame, but then one has to consider the many delightful hours spent discussing it all.
The Ton has yet to decide whether to be sympathetic or to offer Sir Mortimer its condolences on the incident, and condemn young Lady Elinor as a cruel and wanton young woman .
At those words, Caleb found himself grinding his teeth.
Good God, an innocent girl, for she could not be much more than that, thrust into Society and finding herself alone with someone like Hackenby, whose reputation was already developing a slight stink to it…
no wonder she reacted the way she did. If he’d been there, he might well have followed up her slap with a powerful punch of his own.
To his surprise, Caleb found his fingers making a fist even as the thought passed through his mind.
He relaxed, shook his head, and put the letter aside.
At least now he knew her name, and also where she lived.
Also the reason she had returned to Molliney Park.
The well-kept grounds bordered the Abbey on its farthest side, thus very little in the way of communication had taken place between them as far as he knew.
He’d not made any effort to socialise with the neighbourhood, and from the sound of things, neither had she.
It was all quite typical of London—a great deal of fuss and bother over very little. However, he did find himself harbouring a very firm dislike for Sir Mortimer Hackenby. Perhaps the man was fortune hunting…Caleb had no idea. He wasn’t acquainted with him, and didn’t want to be.
He had other matters that were far more important that the little scandal in town, and as he reached for the next letter, he took a moment to pray silently that it contained the news he hoped for.
Holding his breath, he broke the seal and read the brief note from Worthy Publishers.
And laughed aloud, a joyous sound that echoed off the walls, and out into the darkened rooms of Tylwyth Teg Abby where it rattled the large carved wooden shield. The emblem within held the Howell family motto— Libertas Est Omnia . “Freedom and Home”.