Page 43 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer (The Marlow Family #7)

Ellen watched John sleep. He was more like her than Paul.

She had wanted for him to look like Paul, and yet now he was here, it did not matter at all – here he was to love and hold and draw comfort from.

‘John.’ She said the name she had chosen for her son quietly so not to wake him, with a note of reverence.

She had chosen the name because the name John meant the grace of God.

He was here with her by the grace of God.

Even if he was not made in the image of Paul, he was a little piece of Paul on earth. Someone to live for.

She could not resist. Her fingers reached out and touched his little head, feeling the soft patch on the top.

He was sucking in his sleep, as if he were dreaming of suckling milk from her breast.

He was the most precious treasure she had ever had.

She straightened, rising away from the makeshift cradle she and Megan had created from an open dresser drawer. He had not long been fed. He would sleep a while longer.

She looked at the blank sheet of paper she had left on the small table across the room.

She was going to write to her father and ask for his help again.

There had still been no word after the letter she had sent a few months ago.

She must escape Lieutenant Colonel Hillier, get John away from him, and their only hope of escape was via her father or Paul’s.

Leaving John to sleep, she sat down before the empty page, picked up the quill and dipped the tip into the ink.

Your Grace, Father,

I have a child. Paul’s child. A son. I am still in Paris, with Lieutenant Colonel Hillier, Paul’s superior officer. He has been providing for me, but he cannot do so forever. I want to come home, with my son.

I am asking you if you will either come and fetch us or send money for me to make my own way. Will you let me return to you now? I need somewhere safe for John to grow up. Please, father, let me come home.

Please give my love to Mama and Penny, Rebecca and Sylvia also.

At the thought of her sisters Ellen could write no more.

They knew nothing of life – of the truth about the world.

She said a silent prayer, that her father would receive her letter kindly, and she and John would get away from here and reach England soon.

She also prayed that her sisters would experience none of the things she had in the last few months.

She signed the letter…

Eleanor.

She never used her full name now. She had gradually, without even realising it, slipped into anonymity. It hardly mattered after what had happened over recent months, she did not want anyone to know who she was.

She had thought, when she sent her letters just after Paul’s death, that Lieutenant Colonel Hillier knew, he had seen the addresses.

He would have known the earl was Paul’s father, perhaps he had thought the duke ‘she appealed to’ , as he had put it, employed her family in the past. If he thought that, he would never imagine the duke was her father.

She wrote a letter to Paul’s father too, telling him she had given birth to Paul’s son. Then she sealed both letters with wax and addressed them. Her father’s she held to her bosom for a moment, willing him to come as she asked.

She picked up her cloak, looking at John. She could not just leave, even though it would not be for long. She turned to the cord and pulled it so it would ring the bell downstairs and call Megan.

It was just past midday, the servants might be dining. But that would be a good time to leave when none of the other servants would be about the house.

It took a few moments for Megan to come.

Ellen stood at the bedchamber door, waiting for her, dressed in her cloak, with her gloves and hat on.

She was never sure of Lieutenant Colonel Hillier’s comings and goings.

He was not in the house now, but she had no idea when he would return, she wanted to hurry.

‘Megan,’ she said when the maid reached the upstairs landing. ‘I am going out for a walk.’

‘Shall I fetch my?—’

‘No. It is too soon to take John with us. Would you stay with him, while I walk? I will not go out for long.’

‘Of course, ma’am.’

There always seemed to be a tone of pity rather than respect in Megan’s voice these days – as though she felt sorry for Ellen.

Smiling her gratitude, Ellen walked past Megan and hurried down the stairs.

None of the footmen were in the downstairs hall, and there were four in the house.

It was the first time she had come downstairs since John had been born and it felt strange to find the place empty. She let herself out of the house and strode quickly along the pavement to reach the inn she knew would take letters and ensure they reached England via the paid coaches.

Then she returned to the security of her room and her son, thanked Megan, and bid her to leave. She pulled up a chair and watched John sleep, love overflowing inside her. It was wonderful to feel love again.

When the clock chimed five times, she was sitting on her bed, with John in her arms, singing to him after his feed.

A firm knock struck the bedchamber door. The sound jolted through her body.

It was the lieutenant colonel. The door knob twisted, but she had learned her lesson, she always turned the key in the lock now.

‘You have spent enough time recovering from childbirth,’ he called through the wood. ‘I expect you to dine with me tonight, and I expect you to wear a pretty dress and not cover your beauty behind those dull black rags. I have allowed you to mourn for long enough.’

Her heart plummeted.

John whimpered in her arms, drawing her thoughts back to him. She held him closer, as love swelled and rocked inside her, like the surges of the sea when she and Paul had sailed to Ostend. She pressed a gentle kiss on his temple. ‘I love you…’

She almost expected the tiny living soul in her arms to say it back.