Page 39 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer (The Marlow Family #7)

PARIS, FOUR MONTHS LATER

Ellen had heard nothing from either her father or Paul’s, yet she still looked at the post that arrived for the lieutenant colonel daily.

The months since the battle of Waterloo had passed slowly. She still lived with the lieutenant colonel, because she had no money and nowhere else to go.

He had hired a private carriage for her when the regiment marched to Paris and paid for her lodgings so she need not live among the men.

She supposed the lieutenant colonel paid for her keep out of the sum he had made by obligingly disposing of all of hers and Paul’s possessions, before she had been sound enough of mind to even think about what to do with Paul’s belongings.

Perhaps if she had sold them, she could have paid for a passage home.

But some of his things she would have kept.

She missed the dress coat he had removed and left behind on the last evening most. The one which he’d worn to the Richmond ball. It would have held his scent.

Tears came into her eyes; they still did every time she thought of him, and she thought of Paul a dozen times a day. But how could she forget?

Paris was just as mad as Brussels had been before the war; flooded with British tourists. They had flocked to the city as though everyone wanted to claim it for themselves, as though they were the ones who had won the battle.

Ellen had no patience or time for any of them, and of course she had no husband to escort her to events, so she did not attend any of their lavish entertainments, not even the theatre.

She was uncomfortable about Lieutenant Colonel Hillier keeping her, but what other option did she have? Paul had been owed his wages too, so there must be money that was hers by right too. Was the lieutenant colonel also spending the salary Paul was owed to keep her here?

She looked left and right along the street, waited for a carriage to pass, then crossed. Megan followed.

Ellen had not seen Jennifer, her former maid, in Paris. Nor any of the women she had met in Brussels.

Unlike in Brussels, Lieutenant Colonel Hillier did not host dinners or entertainments, and at times, Ellen felt guilty because she thought it was in deference to her. But he had never spoken of dinners, or dances, or even card parties, and she had never asked why not.

In the evenings she dined with him, but beyond that she saw very little of him. More often than not, once they had eaten, he went out, and during the day he was out on business.

For many weeks he had been forever kissing her hand and offering compliments, but in the last few weeks, he had done so less.

At times he even seemed to be impatient or angry, but he never said anything that implied his irritability was directed at her.

His conversation had become more abrupt, though, and he seemed less tolerant of her desire to spend her time in her bedchamber and not downstairs.

‘Megan.’ Ellen turned and waited for her maid to catch her up as she reached the gates of the Tuileries Gardens.

They walked out every day, sometimes twice a day, because sitting in the house became too oppressive, and she would reach a point she wished to escape the silence and the walls about her.

She lived for her child. For Paul’s child. She was only eating and breathing for his son or daughter. Between her thoughts of Paul, her mind filled with images of what his child might look like, and she longed for it to be a boy who would look like him.

She walked a full circle about the gardens. Though shrubberies looked bleak now the December frosts had withered the last of the greenery.

It was nearly a year since she had married Paul. It seemed a lifetime ago. Had she ever been that na?ve girl? She’d been little more than a child then, so sheltered from the real world.

After an hour, Ellen walked back to Lieutenant Colonel Hillier’s house. She could never call it home. It would never feel like home. Nowhere would ever feel like a home again without Paul.

As she neared the house, two of the officers from the regiment came out… Paul’s comrades! She hurried to reach them, her heart leaping with an odd sense of being close to Paul again. They wore the same uniform he had worn.

‘Captain Smith!’ she called out, lifting her hand and waving a greeting. ‘Captain Vickers!’

Captain Smith looked at her first. She was about fifteen or so yards away from them. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes widening, but then he turned to Captain Vickers and said something without acknowledging her. Captain Vickers looked over and his expression twisted with a look of disgust.

They looked away and walked on, their backs to her.

Ellen broke into a slight run, one hand clasping beneath the bulge of the child in her stomach, the other lifting the skirt of her dress a little. ‘Wait!’ She had no idea what she wished to say to them, but it suddenly seemed so important. They were a link to Paul when she had no other.

‘Wait!’ Ellen cried again, hurrying after them, leaving Megan behind her.

They did not stop, ignoring her cries and her presence.

When she caught them up, her fingers gripped the sleeve of Captain Smith’s scarlet coat at his elbow. ‘Will you not stop and speak with me? Please?—’

He stopped walking and faced her, revulsion in his eyes. ‘Madam, I have nothing to say to a woman such as you. I admit I was surprised by the news, as I am sure Captain Harding would have been. He would be disgusted. But there is no going back. Good day.’ He turned away. As did Captain Vickers.

Ellen did not understand. She stood in the street, lost, as they walked on and then turned the corner. Surprised by what news… Why would Paul be disgusted … What did he mean? ‘ A woman such as you .’ A widow?

When she walked into the hall of Lieutenant Colonel Hillier’s house she took off her bonnet and cloak, then her gloves, and passed them all to a footman, as Megan left the hall via the servants’ door.

‘Is Lieutenant Colonel Hillier home?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Where?’

‘The lieutenant colonel is in the drawing room, ma’am.’

As she walked towards the door of the drawing room, the servant rushed past her to open it. ‘Lieutenant Colonel, Mrs Harding.’

There were empty glasses by the decanters where the men had shared a drink, and a quill, ink and paper stood on a desk across the room, where the lieutenant colonel stood.

He came towards her, his hands out as if to take hers. ‘Ellen, this is a charming surprise.’

‘I have just seen Captain Smith, and Captain Vickers leave.’

The tone of her voice stopped him a few feet away from her. ‘Yes, they were reporting to me about?—’

‘I do not care why they were here, what I am concerned about it is that they would not speak with me. Why would they not speak with me? They implied I have done something wrong…’ Creases of confusion caught in Ellen’s brow.

‘Ellen…’ His pitch became placating as if he talked to a child, and he stepped forward and clasped her hands.

She pulled them free.

‘Why would they not speak? What have I done wrong? They said Paul would have been disgusted. Why?’ Her last words erupted on a bitter whisper.

‘There is no need for such distress, Ellen. I have said I shall take care of you and I shall. You must not worry about what others think…’

‘Why would I need to worry about what others think? What do they think?’

‘Ellen.’ His hands lifted to hold her.

She stepped away; the expression in his eyes was similar to the one she used to see in Paul’s eyes when he wanted to go to bed.

She could not stay in this room. ‘I shall go upstairs.’ She should not stay in this house.

‘You do not want to join me for tea?’ There was a cajoling, pacifying edge to his words; she did not like the tone.

‘No. I am tired. It is the pregnancy. I shall rest.’ With that, she left him, still not understanding why Captain Smith and Captain Vickers had refused to speak to her.

‘I shall go out then,’ he called after her. ‘But remember, you are under my roof and you eat my food. You should respect that and respect me!’

She looked back, not knowing how to answer.

‘I think much of you,’ he said. ‘You know that.’

What did he mean? She turned away and climbed the stairs, unwilling to pursue this disturbing conversation.

Before she even reached her rooms, she heard the front door close behind him.

* * *

When the dinner hour came, the lieutenant colonel had not returned to the house. All Ellen felt was relief; she did not want to see him this evening. She ate with Megan in her room, because Megan was the closest person she had to a friend.

They ate and talked, avoiding the subject of the scene in the street with Paul’s fellow officers.

Immediately afterwards, Ellen asked Megan to help her undress so she could retire.

Then she lay in bed, in the half-light of late evening, her hands holding the prominent bump in her stomach, cradling her child.

If only Paul had lived… Her mind circled, think of ways to escape this house – to find a way to get home alone.

Lieutenant Colonel Hillier had promised her for weeks that he would escort her when the regiment returned to England.

She did not believe it was true anymore.

But how would she find the money to travel?

She dared not mention the possibility of leaving to Megan, in case she mentioned something to the other servants.

But if she left, she should leave with Megan as her companion.

Sometimes sleep was difficult, but tonight it came quickly, despite her tumultuous thoughts.

She woke when it was still dark. There was a noise below, a candlestick, statue or vase, or something else heavy had been knocked from a mantle or table. ‘Pick it up!’ A low-pitched bark ran through the house.

Lieutenant Colonel Hillier was back and drunk by the sounds of it, yelling at his servants.

It was not the first time she had heard him return in such a state, though she had never seen him in his cups.

She never went outside her rooms once she had retired, and she certainly would not have walked about the house when he was in this temper.

His footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs as he walked heavily and unsteadily, bumping against the banister, making the iron struts ring.

His rooms were to the right of the house and hers to the left. She listened, expecting him to walk to the right, but his footsteps sounded on the landing, walking towards her room.

Cold fear clasped her stomach as she slid from the bed and rushed to turn the key in the lock of the door, the soles of her bare feet brushing over the cold, unyielding floorboards.

Before she could reach the door to lock it, the handle turned and it opened inwards.

‘Lieutenant Colonel.’ She spoke in a sharp voice, a voice that said, get out even if her lips did not.

‘You have no business in my rooms.’ Had he made a mistake?

Was he too drunk to know where he was? But even as she thought those things she could see he knew what he was doing; his eyes were dark. This was no mistake.

She recalled all the times his stares had made her skin crawl.

‘Go to your rooms.’ Her voice was strong but she could not find the courage to yell at him; this was his house and she was here under his generosity.

‘I think not, Ellen.’ He did not sound so drunk now, not so drunk he was incapable – it sounded the sort of drunk that gave a man confidence and silenced his conscience. She had seen the difference in men when she camped with the army.

She stepped back, afraid of the hard intent in his eyes.

‘I have a need tonight…’ His pitch dropped to almost a whisper, but the bitterness in his tone matched the look in his eyes.

‘I refuse to pay for a damned whore when I have a woman here. I desire you. I always have. You act as if you do not know, but you must know, and you have taken my protection and offered me nothing in return.’

No. The word did not come from her lips; shock had frozen her still. She would have backed away further but she could not gather her thoughts.

His hand lifted quickly and his fingers clasped the plait securing her hair. He pulled so hard it tore at her scalp.

‘ Please do not… ’ She could not say more. The words would not come and her voice was too quiet as fear strangled her.

His grip on her hair only tightened as he leaned forward and attempted to kiss her. She managed to turn her head, even though he held her hair.

‘Why must you keep thinking of that man? Can you not appreciate all I have done for you?’ He tried again to kiss her, but she turned again.

‘You are so beautiful, Ellen. I have always thought you the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I have been nice to you, kind to you, and bought you gifts and how am I repaid? By a melancholy woman pining for a dead man.’

No . A sob became tangled with a scream in her throat.

‘Kneel.’ It was a barked order, in the voice she had heard several times when he commanded the regiment.

‘ Please, do not do this …’ Her voice was a pathetic whimpering plea.

‘I said kneel! You have had everything you wanted, for months! You are under my protection! Do you hear? You owe me. How else will you pay? I want a woman. I want you!’

The servants must be able to hear his bitter shouting; she could not bear the embarrassment. ‘ Please let me go …’ she whispered, in another quiet plea.

‘Enough of your refusals.’ The hand that held her hair pulled her down, the pain in her scalp agony. Unless she screamed, she had no choice. But if she screamed, who would come ? He paid the servants.

She had been brought up not to acknowledge servants.

Not to share anything personal with them.

She had been close to Pippa, but Pippa had raised her, she was like a second mother.

She would have called out to Pippa for help, but no one else…

How could she call for Megan? The lieutenant colonel would only hurt her too.

If a footman came, what would he do? He was paid to do as this man asked.

If a footman helped her, he would be dismissed.

‘Kneel, damn you!’ Her hair was jerked downwards, her knees gave way and she fell onto the floorboards.

With his free hand, as she overcame the pain of having fallen, the lieutenant colonel undid the two buttons which secured the flap of his breeches, he pulled her hair, forcing her to rise to her knees, and in the next moment he filled her mouth as Paul had used to fill the place between her legs.

My God. My God…

Despair reeled through her. She could not breathe…

The shame…